


(if I could be honest, I want to say-) come back right now

by Deinde



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deinde/pseuds/Deinde
Summary: or: Minhyun wakes up and does it all again.





	1. Episode 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Day6 - I Smile

1

Minhyun doesn’t go to sleep the night (or is it morning? Afternoon? He just can’t tell anymore) after the finale alone. Dongho is tucked beside him, face softened by exhaustion and sleep with his trademark stubble already shadowing his jawline. Minki is next to him, a bird’s nest of brown hair and red rimmed eyes that belay hours of tension and tears, not stopping even after the cameras were gone. The three of them barely fit, piled onto the beaten futon in their old Nu’est dorm, and Minhyun’s arm is already awkwardly tracing the floor as he tries to accommodate. That’s why Jonghyun sprawls across them all.

Their leader is curled into a tiny ball that somehow spans all three of their chests. One hand softly cradles the nape of Minhyun’s neck while the other is buried somewhere between Dongho and Minki, and Jonghyun’s head is tucked into the space between Minhyun’s shoulder and Dongho’s nose. It can’t be the most comfortable position, but none of them said a thing when they began arranging themselves into this puzzle of a sleeping arrangement. An unspoken need for comfort, a mutual understanding forged by years of trials had made words unnecessary.

Unsurprisingly, Minki drops off almost immediately, and Dongho follows soon after. Minki’s breathy exhales mingle with Dongho’s light snores, and Minhyun blinks hard in the darkness. His arm has fallen asleep, but he can tell that the person on top of him hasn’t yet. Still, he doesn’t dare whisper. He’s not even sure his voice works any more, not after hours of strained singing and more hours of sobbing. It had started dying by the time they got to the Han River, and his voice had given away completely after the first strangled shout upon seeing Hello rank so highly on the music charts.

That’s all in the past now. The spotlight, the glittering blue chairs, the grey uniform that’s been torn off and crumpled in a heap in the corner… it all feels like it was years ago. But the number nine doesn’t leave Minhyun’s thoughts, not once throughout the entire night. Nine wasn’t a number he had cared much about previously, and yet it refuses to leave him now. What if, what if, he had been ranked just three lower. What if no one knew his rank in the middle of voting, no one knew he was bordering on the border of debuting again, and no one-

Jonghyun sighs and shifts a little on his chest. Minhyun freezes, yanked out of his thoughts, and his eyes dart to side. They catch Jonghyun’s immediately.

A few weeks ago, a post trended online that described Jonghyun’s eyes as shining. Minhyun had laughed at it back then and teased Jonghyun who gratefully described it as a sign of his growing popularity (not enough, not enough, so far from enough-), but Minhyun can’t help but acknowledge it now. Somehow, Jonghyun’s eyes are still clear and glistening in the dark.

They stare at each other for a few minutes, neither daring to break the fragile tension that’s settled upon all four of them. Dongho snuffles a bit, sounding incredibly like the teddy bear he was gifted, and Jonghyun shifts his weight a little off Dongho and more onto Minhyun.

“Minhyun,” he whispers. The name hovers a little in the air, as if deciding where it wants to go, before it weaves itself gracefully into the white noise filling the room. “Minhyun, why aren’t you asleep?”

Minhyun tries to say something, something soft like, “I should say that to you,” but a muffled sob comes out instead. It surprises him. He thought he was done with tears, drained and emptied of anything but the blood in his veins. Turns out he was wrong.

“Minhyun, don’t cry,” Jonghyun says softly. The hand against Minhyun’s neck starts moving up and down soothingly, and Minhyun shakes silently beneath it. “You’ll wake the others up, don’t cry, Minhyun, there’s nothing to cry about.”

How could there be nothing to cry about, Minhyun wants to say, wants to shout, but Jonghyun knows what he’s thinking, might know it better than Minhyun himself. He wants to bring a hand up to wipe at the slow tears escaping his swollen eyes, but his arm is asleep and useless. He lets out a small frustrated grunt, and Jonghyun chuckles, extracting his hand from where Minki was using it as a pillow and presses it softly against Minhyun’s face.

“Go to sleep,” Jonghyun says. “We’ll talk in the morning. But right now, you have to rest. I will too, okay?”

Minhyun breathes heavily through his nose. The brief episode of waterworks has calmed, his tears returning to whatever deep spring they came from, and Minhyun nods against Jonghyun’s hand. He wishes he had words to say to Jonghyun. Words of what, he doesn’t know. Comfort? Reassurance? What is there to be said that hasn’t already been said?

“Let’s sleep.” A smile stretches across Jonghyun’s face, and he rearranges himself on top of Minhyun’s chest so that his mouth is pressed against Minhyun’s shoulder. His breath tickles Minhyun’s neck every time he breathes out, and the feeling is comforting rather than annoying. “Minhyun, we deserve a break. Let’s sleep, okay? Tomorrow will look different.” He doesn’t wait for Minhyun’s answer that never comes, and before long, Minhyun feels Jonghyun’s breath even out against his neck.

That leaves Minhyun, staring up into the darkness. Thinking about tomorrow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow Minhyun will wake up and begin packing to move into the Wanna One dorm. He’ll wish his members well and walk out with his head high. He won’t cry because he did enough of that today. Tomorrow, Jonghyun and the others will begin meeting with advisors and marketing heads to discuss Nu’est’s possible plans. Someone will call Aron, and they’ll have conferences and meetings and write songs and prepare for the uncertain future-

And Minhyun will leave all that behind.

He swallows a hard lump in his throat. It all still feels so surreal. Those hard-glittering chairs, the constant screaming and spotlights, nerves stretched thin over months and months of uncertainty, the booming announcements and hugs and tears. Tomorrow will be the fruition of all those months as Korea’s boy group finally begins debut preparations. Minhyun’s friends are there alongside him in the top eleven, all eager and ready for their dreams to become reality.

Minhyun doesn’t want that reality. He doesn’t want tomorrow to come. He doesn’t want to go to whatever fancy accomodations Mnet will inevitably shell out for the sake of looking nice for the cameras. He doesn’t want to learn new songs written by unfamiliar hands, doesn’t even want to see his future groupmates’ happy faces. The high from seeing their songs chart again after years of languishing off the charts has faded, and Minhyun is ever so slowly starting to realize something that he hasn’t felt since that first company evaluation.

He’s scared. He’s genuinely, shamefully, childishly scared.

He wants to stay here, suffocating under Jonghyun’s weight with Dongho next to him and Minki next to him. He wants to stay in their crappy dorm room, never once upgraded from when they were trainees. He wants to tease Dongho about his new fans, see him blush when he calls him “bandit sexy” or “daddy sexy,” as cringe worthy as those nicknames are. He wants to watch Minki put on his makeup in the morning or hear him say “fuck it” and go barefaced, because anyone who says Minki isn’t beautiful either way is a liar. He wants to call Aron, hear him say that he’s on his way up, open the door for their oldest, and feel those arms around him again after so long. He wants to sit beside Jonghyun, tangle their fingers together, listen to his sheepish laugh that bubbles up, and tell him thanks, good job, you were amazing, we owe you so much, you’re perfect. He wants to go back to being Nu’est’s Minhyun, write new songs with his brothers, learn choreography, and perform on music shows with these people, not anyone else.

He wants, God, he wants.

But he can’t have, and isn’t that the saddest thing of all.

Minhyun can’t stay awake much longer, not even in the face of these depressing thoughts. As he finally lets himself drift away, he catches himself thinking that maybe, maybe it won’t turn out that badly. There’s hope, the fans have shown him that much. And, he thinks wryly, as long as there’s hope, there’s a way.

There has to be.

When Minhyun falls asleep that night, it’s to vague feelings of worry and expectation in equal measure. It’ll take a little more time, but Minhyun thinks that he might be able to accept this situation. After all, there’s not much he can do about it, and he should put his best foot forward regardless. Yeah, he can live with this.

 

  
  
It’s too bad that no one tells the universe that, because when Minhyun wakes up the next morning, Minki is shaking him with wild eyes.

“What’re you doing on the couch, and how are you still asleep?” he hisses. “We’re going to be late, we’re already late for heaven’s sake!”

“Minki,” Minhyun says groggily. “What. What are you talking about?”

Minki sighs and turns his eyes heavenward as if looking for patience. “You idiot. Come on, it’s the first day of filming, we can’t keep them waiting any longer.”

“Keep who?” Minhyun is bewildered and rightfully so. “I was just told to move in by the end of today, not-”

“Oh my God!” Minki shrieks. His yells bring Jonghyun in, tripping over his own feet and asking what’s happening. “I do not have the time for this, holy shit, get your act together!”

“Jonghyun, what’s happening?” Minhyun demands. “What’s going on?”

“Minhyun, we really have to go,” the leader urges. “We’re going for the company evaluations now.”

Company eval- “Wait, what?”

Dongho ambles in, a tense bundle of stress and nerves. “Produce 101, also known as our last shot for survival?” he says dryly. “Did you forget everything overnight, or are you just denying reality like I am?”

“That’s not helping,” Jonghyun says as Minhyun’s brain effectively leaks out of his ears. “Look, I know we’re all worried and stressed out-”

“That’s an understatement, Minki is literally hyperventilating right now-”

“I’m not-”

“- but this is a really important day for us,” Jonghyun forges on. “So let’s try not to be late for the first filming and make the other trainees think we’re more stuck up than we actually are, hm? Minhyun, let’s go.”

Minhyun gets up, gets dressed, gets in the car in a daze. He’s quiet the entire way, only breaking his silence to mumble an occasional answer to Jonghyun’s worried questions. He checks his phone, and yes, it is indeed February 26, also known as four months prior to yesterday, which… makes no sense. Last he checked, they had just finished filming for Produce 101, and he was debuting in the top eleven against his wishes. This must be a fever dream, a delusion of last night’s extended angst session.

He turns to Jonghyun urgently. “Slap me.”

Jonghyun recoils. “What? No, Minhyun-”

Minhyun turns to Dongho instead and repeats, “Slap me.” The other man raises an eyebrow at him, shrugs, and does exactly that to a backdrop of Jonghyun’s exclamations and Minki’s shriek.

It hurts a lot, as expected of anything from Dongho, but Minhyun is less concerned about the red mark the stylists will have to cover up later and more about the fact that he’s not waking up. He looks up, and yep, still in the van with the rest of his members. Jonghyun is kicking up a fuss at one side, and Dongho is trying to escape Minki’s grappling hands while protesting that he only did what Minhyun asked.

“This really isn’t a dream,” Minhyun says slowly.

All the chaos in the car comes to a halt as the other three turn to look at him. Dongho looks a bit pissed, Minki freaked out, and Jonghyun startled, but all three have the same amount of concern in their eyes. Concern, Minhyun realizes, that he put there.

“Yeah. It’s not,” Dongho says finally. “We’re really doing this. I don’t know what’s gonna happen to us, but we’re doing this. So get your head in the game, Mr. Lead Vocal. We need you if we’re gonna make an impression on the trainers and the rest of Korea.”

You don’t know what’s gonna happen but I do, Minhyun almost says. But he doesn’t. The rest of the car rise passes in relative peace, and Minhyun tries to digest exactly what is happening.

So. He’s back. Back the first day of filming of Produce 101 having somehow time-traveled. This isn’t a dream, and he’s here, surrounded by all his members. But how? The last thing that Mihyun remembers is going to sleep in a pile with his members, and he can’t think of anything that he might’ve done to bring this upon himself. Is it a curse or a blessing? He doesn’t know.

Thinking back on the dramas he’s seen, Minhyun tries to remember if he’s come across any walkie-talkies, angered some supernatural figure, or anything else, but comes up empty. The only explanation is that there is really no explanation for this. How long is this supposed to last? Considering that this is the first day of filming, Minhyun assumes that he’s in it for the long haul and has to relive the entire experience. He’s stumped for a second. What is he supposed to do here? He can’t remember many details from filming, and he’s not sure how much he can do to influence public votes at all.

The closest thing he can pinpoint that he’d want to change is the outcome for Nu’est. It’s no secret that their popularity rose incredibly fast as the show was airing. Of course, the finale proved that public support wasn’t quite enough to push Jonghyun and Dongho into the top eleven, but wasn’t that the main source of his worries in the first place. The fact that Nu’est would promote as four instead of five or three…

Their disastrous first company evaluations are coming up, and they have months to go before the finale airs. He has time. Months of time to change things, to correct things. He can make sure that Jonghyun makes the team, make sure that all of them get in, or make sure that none of them get in. It all depends on whatever Minhyun thinks is best, and if things play out the way they did last time, Minhyun can just carefully make any adjustments he needs to for the good of his team.

It’s practically a blessing, and Minhyun’s not in the habit of letting chances slip by.

“You’re smiling,” Jonghyun says quietly.

Minhyun startles. He raises a hand to his mouth, and indeed, the corners of his lips are raised in a small smile. He tries to force them down to no avail. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m doing that.”

“It’s okay.” Jonghyun turns his head away from Minhyun and presses his forehead against the window. “I’m glad you seem optimistic about this, or at least more than earlier. You were so out of it this morning.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I was just… there was a lot on my mind.”

“You and me both,” Jonghyun responds. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know this is a really stressful situation for everyone.”

“I’m fine,” Minhyun responds automatically. “In fact, this could be a pretty good thing for us, right? We’re on the show to get publicity, we’ve got plenty of that already from all the news reports. Considering our images, the public’s support will help a lot, and we can get a lot of attention from the get go. We might do badly in the company evaluations, or- would it be better to do well? That has its own implications, but whatever. This could be the start of our revival. As long as we play our cards right…”

He trails off when he notices that Minki and Donho are staring at him too, not just Jonghyun. There’s something unnerving about being the center of their attention, and he shifts as much as his seatbelt will allow.

“What?” he asks defensively.

The question hands unanswered for a few seconds before Dongho snorts and turns to the front of the car. “Someone’s optimistic. I can already tell you’re gonna get a lot of screentime and bunch of nicknames,” he says sarcastically.

You don’t even know, Minhyun thinks.

He’s still debating whether or not he should try to place higher this time around when they arrive. They drop their luggage off, head inside, and shrug off their heavy coats. There are some miscellaneous trainees milling around and chatting to one another, but everyone shuts up as soon as they walk in. It’s clearly an effort for some of them to turn back and act like they hadn’t reacted, but they do.

Minhyun recognizes several of them- no, most of them. Kenta is huddled in the corner with some staff, nervously shifting about, and the Ador and Able trainees are going through their routine, as if they aren’t going to blow everyone away with it. He catches a notch of denim-clad trainees by the wall, and his heart clenches when he sees the word “individual” written on their nametags. Jaehwan is here.

There’s a sudden burst of noise as the door opens, loud chatter filling the previously quiet room, and somehow, Minhyun has an idea of who’s entered. Sure enough, the MMO trainees are making their way confidently across the floor, Jisung’s jokes and Daniel’s loud laughter already echoing.

Jonghyun catches him staring and awkwardly laughs under his breath. “We should probably go to our waiting room,” he says. “We can probably prepare more in private there.”

They go, and Minhyun has no choice but to follow them, his eyes still falling on the people he’s grown close to over the past (or is it future?) few months. But they’re strangers now, all glaring at one another with tense nervousness and even eyeing him with suspicion. He’s forgotten, Minhyun realizes, how Nu’est had been viewed at the very start. Accusations of cheating, of unfair advantages that had made it hard to get close to the other trainees at first. They’d overcome that barrier eventually, but that was before Minhyun knew that Daehwi was scared of ghosts, that Seonho was an overexcited golden retriever that loved snacks and hugging, that Seongwoo was as desperate for this debut as any of them despite his cocky demeanor.

No matter, Minhyun firmly reminded himself. He was here to make sure that things turned out the best for Nu’est and Nu’est only. The other would be fine and make it through on their own merits. They didn’t need him meddling.

The waiting room is tense as more and more trainees gather. Minhyun can feel Minki growing more nervous beside him and places a calming hand on his shoulder. He can’t tell if it helps or not, but Minki sends him a grateful look nevertheless. The air is starting to grow warm with the collective breaths of trainees as they wait for their cue to enter. As more and more people pass by, Minhyun is tempted to wish some of them luck, tell the ones he’s closer to that they’ll be fine, but he restrains himself. He can’t.

Before he knows it, it’s almost time for the Pledis trainees to make their grand entrance, and he panics for just a second. He still hasn’t decided if it’s better to tell the others, let them know that this isn’t his first time doing this, tell them not to be as nervous during the evaluations- but it’s too late. They’re called in, and Minhyun walks down that familiar path.

It looks like he’ll have to keep things the same for now.

Sitting in the chairs is just as nerve-wracking the second time as if is the first, and Minhyun takes several deep breaths to steady himself. He’s surrounded by faces, some that he got to know well, others who were gone before he had any chance to speak with them. His other members are clearly nervous, Dongho bouncing his leg up and down before a warning hand from Jonghyun forces him to stop. As the minutes drag on and on and more trainees continue walking in with no sign of stopping, Minhyun remembers just how tedious the first few weeks of filming were. So many people, so little screentime. Luckily, Minhyun is pretty sure that Nu’est won’t fall between the cracks this time.

After some drama with the number one seat (Minhyun thinks with a pang about Eunki, Hoeseung, and Moonbok, all eliminated before they had the chance to sit on that throne), the last seat is finally taken and the trainees fall into uneasy murmuring. When the trainers enter, everyone gets to their feet to whoop and holler, but Minhyun remains silent. Even as his hands clap, he’s suddenly been struck by a dangerous thought.

What if things are different? There’s no reason to doubt why anything might be different this time around. So far, the only thing that’s changed is Minhyun’s car ride, and that was as much his own fault as anything else. Everything could follow the same course as before, and even if Minhyun does some things, he doubts that it could have that big of an impact… right?

His first priority is still making sure Nu’est comes out of this the right way, and the only thing he might want to change is the finale. So. What does that mean? He either needs to get Minki and Dongho and Jonghyun all in the top eleven with him, which seems unlikely, or, or…

Or he can drop out of the top eleven.

It’s not the first time this thought as occurred to him, but Minhyun is clear-minded enough to admit that he doesn’t want to entertain that idea for long. A small part of him that had mostly been stifled by the grief of losing Jonghyun and the resignation to his two year long contract had taken pride in the fact that, yes, Korea wanted him in their hand-picked boy group. Hubris was a common ailment, and Minhyun wasn’t going to deny that he had his own pride about his ranking. Before Boa called Jonghyun’s name as number fourteen, Minhyun had swelled with happiness and fully expected to be joined by one or more of his groupmates, only to be denied by reality.

He can’t dwell too long on that, though, because before he knows it, all eyes are on them as BoA calls for the Pledis trainees to make their way to the stage. Jonghyun clasps his hand tightly with his, and Minhyun tries to give him a reassuring smile. He doesn’t think it works, because Jonghyun’s eyebrows furrow together and his mouth tugs down into a frown. Minhyun immediately feels terrible, but there’s no room for distractions now. They have to focus. Jonghyun opens his mouth to say something, but Minhyun doesn’t let him and brushes past him to the stage.

They stand there, and Kahi launches into her sad monologue about seeing them as trainees. If he thought seeing Kahi cry was emotional the first, he’s unprepared for how strongly it hits him the second time. It had been so long since anything they’d done was validated, and it’s still humiliating hearing Kahi talk about how they used to practice side by side. Now, she’s sitting above and across from them while they have to beg for her praise. But, but, only a night ago… Minhyun had been sitting above them all. He can remember all the positive comments, all the trending posts that haven’t been written yet, but somehow the only thing he really remembers is the overwhelming loneliness he’d felt atop that blue pyramid.

Ah, it’s really been too long.

Startled murmuring breaks him out of his reverie, and Dongho’s knee nudges his. When Minhyun checks Dongho’s face, he’s shocked to see his friend gesture at his own face.

“Why’re you crying?” Dongho asks softly, but not softly enough for the microphone to miss.

“I’m crying?” Minhyun asks before he can stop himself. He raises a hand to his face and, to his shock, brings it back wet. He quickly wipes the stray tear away, but it’s replaced by another just as fast. “Ah, I don’t know why-”

Futilely, he tilts his head back as if it’ll stop the tears leaking from his eyes, and he feels three warm bodies press around him in a reassuring embrace. The part of him that isn’t bewildered by the tears is wondering how this comes across on screen, how the other trainees are taking this, but he’s mostly caught up by the fact that he’s crying at all. None of them had the first time around, even though they’d been ashamed and embarrassed in front of everyone. Jonghyun and Minki had teared up, but none of them had let their tears fall, least of all him.

So why is this happening now?

When he finally gets his tears under control, Minhyun untangles himself from his members and turns back around to face the pyramid of trainees and panel of trainers. He bows deeply. “I apologize, I don’t know why that happened,” he says stiffly. “We can begin any time.”

Minki shoots him a concerned look that he ignores, and BoA is looking at him with something strange in her eyes that he can’t quite place. “Alright. Whenever you’re ready then.”

The performance goes even worse than Minhyun remembers. Not only does Dongho’s voice crack in the middle, Minhyun can barely squeak out his own parts. Jonghyun and Minki do fine, but are far from their best, and Minhyun is sure that it’s obvious to everyone else too. Inwardly cursing himself for that crying fit (what even was that?) and for maybe dooming the entire group in the process, Minhyun stands with his hands clasped in front of him and head lowered.

“We will now announce the grades for the Pledis trainees,” BoA says in her deadpan voice. He hears papers shuffling, trainees muttering, and squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for the ineveitable.

“A – none.”

That was okay, that much he’d expected.

“B – Kim Jonghyun. And there is none.”

What? Minhyun’s head shoots up, and he looks at Jonghyun in disbelief. Jonghyun had only risen to B after reevaluations last time, so why was he B now?

“C – Choi Minki, Kang Dongho. D: Hwang Minhyun.”

So. He’s ranked the lowest this time around. It shouldn’t surprise Minhyun as much as it should, considering the state his voice was in, but he still can’t quite wrap his head around it. Minki and Dongho had been in D last time, Minhyun himself in C, but now everyone had moved up except for him? Things are changing already, and they aren’t things Minhyun is necessarily comfortable with. The only justification he can give for his lowered ranking and the rests’ elevated ones is that he simply performed so horribly this time around that they looked better by comparison.

The idea that he lost control so badly and so early on is more unsettling than he thought it would be. He can’t remember walking off stage, only aware of Dongho’s hand on his waist and Jonghyun’s fingers sneakily intertwining with his own. “It’ll be okay,” he hears Jonghyun whisper. “You did well,” and it registers that Jonghyun and the rest must think that he’s disappointed, not utterly confused about what came over him.

“I’ll be fine,” Minhyun says in an attempt to reassure them, but from the look he gets from every direction, he can tell no one believes him.

The rest of the company evaluations go by in a whirl as Minhyun tries to process. What will this change? Will Korea respond positively or negatively to his sudden and unexpected outpouring of emotions? Is Jonghyun likely to stay in B class? Are Dongho and Minki going to move up or down? Class rankings barely matter unless you’re pressed for screen time, which Minhyun is certain that Nu’est isn’t, and yet, it’s unpredictable.

There are more murmurs around him, and Minhyun looks up to see four familiar silhouettes make their way to the stage. It’s YGK+, and something in Minhyun loosens at the sight of their awkward and gangly dancing. He has to suppress a smile when Hyunbin begins doing whatever it is his does on stage, and he covers his mouth to stop a chuckle from escaping.

“Ah, that kid…” he says.

Jonghyun turns to look at him, surprise in his eyes. “Which one? The one that just sang?”

“Yeah, him,” Minhyun responds without taking his eyes off stage. “Doesn’t he seem pretty interesting?”

Jonghyun looks back at the stage, intrigue clear on his face now. “I don’t know. Seems like he could use some practice.” By his side, Dongho grunts in agreement.

“I think so too,” Minhyun says. He doesn’t say anything else and watches as Hyunbin gets assigned F rank, just like last time. Still, Hyunbin seems a bit optimistic, something that Minhyun knows will change after their Sorry Sorry performance airs and Hyunbin is confronted by a wave of hate comments. It was a tough time for them all, but Hyunbin especially, and while Minhyun knows that he came out stronger and better for it, a part of him selfishly wishes he could spare Hyunbin the pain, even just a little. A smile creeps to his face, and he knows somewhere from the bottom of his heart that even if things have already started changing without his permission, this is something he’ll mold with his own two hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after watching the finale and having my feelings ripped apart like everyone else, I took some time to process and came to a simple conclusion: what if Minhyun could do it all again? Time for the giant time travel fic I definitely did not mean to become as big as it did!


	2. Episode 2

2

 

Classes are… painful, to say the least. Minhyun isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do here other than not fail and not act like a jerk in front of the other trainees. He’s the only one from Nu’est in D class this time around, so he isn’t even getting to know trainees from the same class. It’s not like people have much time to socialize though, what with the intensive dance practices keeping them up until early in the morning. Minhyun finds that even though his mind remembers the steps and lyrics perfectly, his body isn’t quite accustomed to it yet. He needs the least practice out of the other D members, though, and he tries to make up for it by helping as much as possible.

 

He stays behind late and patiently walks through the steps with Gunhee, avoiding his gangly limbs as he does. He helps guide Hoolim out of some strange loyalty to the YGK+ brand; knowing that this guy is from the same company as Hyunbin softens Minhyun’s attitude towards him. He also tries to help Hyungseob as much as he can vocally. The boy really isn’t bad at all, and Minhyun knows he just needs some more confidence. He watches Guanlin struggle out of the corner of his eye and tries to help as much as he can, but the poor boy just seems lost and demotivated the entire time. Minhyun gives up on teaching Guanlin the steps and instead just chats with him, trying to get to know the Taiwanese boy better and teaching him some more Korean when it comes up.

 

Perhaps Minhyun is too attached to the reality he comes from, where the title of nation’s leader belongs firmly in the hands of one man and one alone, but that might be why he’s surprised during their vocal lesson. When Hyungseob is praised for his sudden and seemingly overnight improvement, the younger boy shyly says, “Ah, Minhyunnie hyung helped me a lot, actually. He gave me lots of tips.”

 

Trainer Seokhoon pulls an exaggerated admiring face and lets out a long “ohhh.” He calls out, “Giving some tips to the younger ones? I’d expect no less from someone with as much experience as you.”

 

Minhyun, surprised at the shoutout, does nothing but dip his head with a little murmured thanks. He shifts uncomfortably under the gazes the other D class members give him, face hot for whatever reason. Something is shifting, and while he has no evidence to back that up yet, he doesn’t know if he likes it.

 

When he’s led aside for his personal interview the following day, Minhyun has barely had time to see his other members. They’ve all been incredibly busy and stressed. It seems, from the whispers he’s caught at lunchtime, that Dongho and Minki haven’t escaped Kahi’s rage this time around either, though Jonghyun seems to be doing well enough for himself in B. He catches Jonghyun laughing with Daniel in between takes, the pink-haired boy companionably slinging an arm around Jonghyun’s neck. This too, is new. Jonghyun and Daniel didn’t become close until the start of group battles, and even then Jonghyn had his hands full dealing with Hyunbin rather than Daniel.

 

Strangely enough, in these moments, Seongwoo is nowhere to be found.

 

Sitting in that little cardboard corner is familiar, and Minhyun tries to relax and answer the questions as best he can. Questions about Nu’est’s future are painful, but expected, and Minhyun tries to answer as closely he can to the original timeline. Everything seems the same, but it’s only when they begin asking about classes that Minhyun notices the shift again.

 

“How does it feel, being in D?”

 

“It’s not a bad feeling. I think I have lots to improve on, and being in D is very good. It’s tiring sometimes, and I think about my fellow Pledis trainees who are ranked above me, but I hope I can join them and rise even higher soon.”

 

“It seems that you’re doing a lot to help teach the other D trainees.”

 

“It’s really not that much. I learned the steps fairly quickly, and there were some friends who were struggling so I tried to help them. I think it uplifts the entire room’s mood when we encourage and support one another, so it’s really great to see them improving. I learn a lot from them too, and they give me lots of strength.”

 

“Have you heard your reputation from the trainees?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“All the other trainees who were interviewed from D class say you’re basically the leader for that class, so they’ve nicknamed you Director Minhyun. Apparently you’re so good at leading and organizing that you’ve gained this reputation.”

 

“Ah-”

 

Minhyun isn’t sure what to say. Director sounds dangerously close to leader, and that’s not a role that Minhyun has ever approached or wanted in the past. That title belongs to Jonghyun and only him.

 

He stutters when giving his answer. “Ah, well, I’m flattered, but I’m really not that great. I think they’re giving me more credit than I deserve, especially since there are so many who are good at leadership and showing it.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Such as…” He’s trapped himself. Minhyun can’t push Jonghyun as leader when they’re in different classes, and Minhyun has no way of knowing if Jonghyun has shown any of those qualities yet. As far as he knows, Jonghyun didn’t do too much leading when he was in D class because of the stress from seeing Minki and Dongho constantly attacked and called out, so there’s no way of telling what his state of mind is now. Minhyun curses to himself.

 

“I’ve heard from other trainees that Kang Daniel does well,” he says hastily. He has no idea if this is true or not, but from the episodes he saw last time, Mnet was definitely trying to push Daniel as a brotherly type. “I hear he looks after people very well, which is something I admire.”

 

The interview thankfully ends after a few more questions, and Minhyun returns to the dorms feeling more than a little perturbed. It’s a little later than one in the morning, and as loathe as Minhyun is to deprive his friends of the sleep they need, he can’t help but pad down the hallway to find Jonghyun.

 

The lights are still showing from the crack in the door, so Minhyun doesn’t feel too bad about knocking and entering.

 

“Oh?”

 

The only current occupant of the room is Daniel who sits up immediately from his perch on the upper bunk. Minhyun can see his roots from here, the pink rapidly fading from his bleached hair. Daniel nearly falls over himself trying to get to the ground on time to bow, and Minhyun is almost amused at the other’s formality before he remembers that it’s only because to Daniel, Minhyun is still a stranger.

 

“Hello,” Daniel greets formally. “What’re you doing here so late?”

 

“Don’t worry about honorifics, just call me hyung,” Minhyun says. He can read the tiredness in Daniel’s body lines, but his eyes are bright, and his infamous buckteeth come out as he grins in response.

 

“Okay then, hyung, what are you doing here so late?” Daniel shoots back playfully. “Looking for Jonghyun hyung?”

 

Minhyun notes the lack of awkwardness with which Daniel says Jonghyun’s name and nods in affirmation. “I wanted to catch up with him for a bit. Is he in the shower?”

 

Daniel hums thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. Jaehwan hyung is in the shower now, and I remember Jonghyun hyung saying something about getting fresh air. He might be outside.”

 

“Alright, thanks.” Minhyun is about to turn to leave when a sudden thought strikes him. He turns back and asks, “Jaehwan is in this room?”

 

Daniel is taken aback for a second before responding. “Uh, yeah. It’s me, Jaehwan hyung, Jonghyun hyung, Sewoon, Dongsu hyung, and Hwanwoong sharing. Why, do you want to talk to him too?”

 

“No, I just-” _didn’t expect half of the Sorry Sorry Team 2 members in this room,_ Minhyun stops himself from saying. Daniel is looking at him expectantly, and Minhyun suddenly feels the tiredness of four more months of filming crashing down on him. “I was just curious. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Okay.” Daniel doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but Minhyun throws him a bright smile that seems to dissuade him.

 

Well. He came here to talk to Jonghyun, but this isn’t a bad opportunity either. Might as well ask some questions. “By the way, are you close with Ong Seongwoo?” Minhyun asks, purposefully casual. “You two seemed close in between takes.”

 

“We did?” Daniel asks, surprised. “I haven’t really spoken to him at all, though, and he doesn’t really seem to approach people. I’m probably closest to Jonghyun hyung and Woojin out of the trainees that aren’t in my company. What made you think that?”

 

“Oh, I must have mistaken what I saw then,” Minhyun replies on autopilot. He ignores Daniel’s skeptical, “with the hair?” as his mind whirs to life. Daniel and Seongwoo, not thick as thieves? If his memory is correct, the two of them should already be close at this point in the show since the so-called Ongniel couple took off only a few episodes in. Sure, level evaluations haven’t happened yet for Daniel and Seongwoo to get closer, but for Daniel to act like he doesn’t know Seongwoo at all is a bit odd. Is this a side effect of Minhyun’s grade shifting? Or has not enough time passed for the two to grow close yet?

 

He remembers how much the two meant to one another, though, those late night whispers that stretched far beyond when the boys were supposed to turn in, the constant skinship and codependence that suggested something deeper than a friendship formed for a temporary project group. Especially, he remembers Seongwoo’s elation at being called for fifth, the swarm of boys congratulating him on that final stage, and Seongwoo extracting himself from the pile to throw himself in Daniel’s arms.

 

Minhyun had never gotten around to asking about it, assuming he’d have more than enough time to figure it out, but now…

 

“Maybe you should get to know him more,” he suggests. “It seems like you two would get along.”

 

“Really?” Daniel scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “You think so? I haven't really approached him because it seems kind of out of the blue, but...”

 

“Yeah,” Minhyun says, trying to project confidence into his stance. “I’m sure of it, from what I’ve seen of you two, anyway.”

 

Daniel laughs, a husky sound that comes from low in his chest. “Thanks, I’ll try. I guess Jonghyun hyung is right about you then.”

 

“What? What’s he right about?”

 

“He says you’re the most analytical of all the Nu’est members,” Daniel elaborates. “And that he wouldn’t be surprised if you predict everything that happens on this show and do it correctly too.”

 

A startled laugh bursts from Minhyun, too late for this hour, and he stifles it quickly. “I’m flattered,” he says when he recovers from his brief laughing fit. “But Jonghyun overestimates me.”

 

“Why do I overestimate you?”

 

Jonghyun enters the room bundled in his jacket, cheeks a bit pink from the cold. Daniel blurts out a delighted “hyung!” and moves to embrace the elder warmly, something Minhyun watches with a critical eye. He doesn’t remember the two being this close last time. If anything, it was more a mutual respect for one another’s abilities that led Daniel to try his own hand at being leader. This, though, this is more reminiscent of Daniel’s easy camaraderie with his MMO labelmates, and the doting expression in his eyes is like-

 

Minhyun has to swallow hard. Daniel’s eyes remind him of Seonho. He hasn’t seen the self-named Cube chick- no, that’s wrong. He’s seen him, but hasn’t gotten to talk to the Cube chick since he woke up in the past. It’s to be expected since he only became close to Seonho in the latter half of the show, but Minhyun still finds himself missing the younger’s overenthusiastic embraces and his seemingly desperate need for skinship. Coming back to… change, fix, whatever- to make things different might have taken a greater toll than Minhyun expected, and for half a second, he finds himself wishing he were back.

 

But, no. How could he be so selfish? The entire reason he’s still doing this, still working is for Nu’est’s future. He’s experienced Seonho’s love once, and he’ll experience it again for sure. Now, he has to focus.

 

Jonghyun has clearly sensed that something is wrong though, black eyes boring a hole into him from Daniel’s shoulder. At length, the two let go as Daniel whines about being left in the room alone, and Jonghyun chuckles while patting him. All the while, his eyes never leave Minhyun, and Minhyun jerks his head in an implicit request for privacy.

 

“Daniel, do you mind giving us some private time for a bit?” Jonghyun asks. “It won’t take too long, but you can go find your MMO friends or something.”

 

“Or something,” Daniel echoes blankly, seemingly insulted at being kicked out of his own room before bouncing back and grinning. “Maybe I’ll see if I can find that Ong guy around and get to know him more like you suggested. Have a good talk!” He disappears without another word.

 

Jonghyun watches him go and turns back to Minhyun, bemused. “Ong Seongwoo? And Daniel?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

Minhyun shrugs. “They seem like they’d get along,” he says blandly.

 

Jonghyun doesn’t comment further and just nods. “So. What did you want to talk about? Are you doing okay in D?” he asks, eyes full of concern.

 

Minhyun melts just a little at the sight of them. Yeah, that netizen had been dead on about the stars captured in those eyes. But this isn’t the time to fawn over Jonghyun’s eyes, so Minhyun takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m doing fine. I was just wondering about how you’re doing,” he says. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

 

“Practice has been draining,” Jonghyun agrees. He takes off his coat and hangs it up alongside several other coats, some of which have fallen to the ground. “I’m doing okay, though. Everyone in B is really encouraging, and the dance isn’t too hard so I’m fine on that front. The trouble is the singing.”

 

“Not a new problem for you,” Minhyun comments. Jonghyun looks skinnier already, or is that his imagination? “Have you been leading them well?”

 

“What?” Jonghyun is taken aback for a second. “What do you mean, leading them? I’m not the leader of B class, Wontak is.”

 

“Oh. Well, you don’t have to be the official leader to lead, right? I just assumed-”

 

“That because I was Nu’est’s leader I would lead?” Jonghyun finishes for him, looking a bit sad. He moves around Minhyun to sit on what’s presumably his bed, messing up his hair with a hand as he does. “I don’t know… I don’t know if I want to be leader this time around.”

 

Minhyun’s heart stops when Jonghyun says those words, and he almost blurts out how Jonghyun knows about the time travel before he realizes that Jonhyun is probably talking about Produce 101 in general. “Oh,” he says lamely instead. “Why is that?”

 

Jonghyun heaves a frustrated sigh. “Because… don’t get me wrong, I love being part of Nu’est and leading it, it’s just… too burdensome, sometimes. And I don’t know if I can do a good enough job. Who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here if someone else, if Aron, or if even you were leader instead. I don’t want to assume that just because I was made leader by the company that it carries over here when we’re supposed to have a new start. I don’t want that.”

 

Minhyun is silent as Jonghyun talks. None of this is new, both from his previous experience in Produce 101 nor from his time with Jonghyun as Nu’est. It’s no secret that Jonghyun has plenty of insecurities about his role as leader, and Minhyun wants to shake him until he realizes that he’s worthy of everything, every accolade, every honor that could ever be made. He’s seen Jonghyun grow into himself on this program, seen him naturally assume the leadership role with more grace and humility than anyone else, and Minhyun has also seen him light up from the praise he’d received as leader, seen him glow as he takes care of team members with no ulterior motives but making sure they were doing alright. Minhyun wants to hug Jonghyun and tell him not to worry because Nu’est does get recognized in a way, just not the way they might have imagined. Minhyun wants to hold Jonghyun and tell him that all the pain, all the suffering, all the sleepless nights are worth it for the new fancafe members, for their songs ranking on the charts-

 

But none of that has happened yet, and Minhyun can’t do anything about that but hope that this, Jonghyun’s newfound self-confidence, carries over.

 

He tentatively sits next to Jonghyun and leans his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder. He feels Jonghyun stiffen in surprise for good reason. It’s the first time he’s done something like, normally opting to hug Jonghyun or slide an arm around his shoulders instead. Minhyun is too tall for this to be comfortable, and within seconds, his neck starts aching, but Minhyun ignores it. He waits until Jonghyun relaxes before bringing up his hand to rest on top of Jonghyun’s own clasped ones.

 

“Jonghyun,” he murmurs. “I’d choose you as my leader every time.”

 

Something in Jonghyun seems to unfurl at that, and his entire body softens as he looks down on Minhyun. “Thank you, Minhyun,” he says. “That means a lot.”

 

Minhyun simply hums and closes his eyes. The ache in his neck fades into the background along with everything else but Jonghyun’s warmth and the brush of their fingers against one another. They stay like that until Jaehwan returns, pink-cheeked from the showers and hair dripping. In the end, Minhyun doesn’t get to ask Jonghyun about B class or about Dongho and Minki, not even try to get a better sense of trainee relationships this time around. He doesn’t get to talk about the weird niggling feeling in his chest when he learned that the other trainees see him as a leader, but he couldn’t explain that without talking about the time travel, which isn’t a topic Minhyun wants to broach just yet. They just stay like that, Jonghyun and Minhyun, Minhyun and Jonghyun, and for those few minutes, Minhyun thinks that everything will work out fine.

 

 

 

 

The next morning is D-day for most trainees. Well, all of them except for Minhyun because it’s time for reevaluations. That means everyone is more stressed and nervous than usual, which is really saying something. Unlike everyone else, the only major struggle Minhuyn faces is deciding whether or not he should try to rise above his station. He’s definitely performing above D level during practice, and both the trainers and trainees know that, without a doubt. He’s been approached by other trainees for help too, more than he remembered when he was in C class. Then again, Minhyun thinks wryly to himself, when he was in C last time, he’d been stressed beyond belief with the all doubt and uncertainty ahead of him. Now that he’s already done this once, it’s not a stretch to say that he’s a little more prepared.

 

Will it be more suspicious if he suddenly fails? Everyone expects him to do well, but there’s a reason he was placed in D in the first place. Minhyun was supposed to do well the first time around too, but he still ended up dropping a grade. Is it possible to fake something like that now?

 

Wait, stop. Minhyun should think about how this will look to the netizens. He’s obviously taken on more of a leadership persona than he did the first time around, he might get accused of faking it for attention if he suddenly seems to fail out of the blue. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to overshadow however well Jonghyun and the others will do, nor does he want to put too great of a skill distance between them. It won’t do if people start seeing Nu’est as talentless except for himself, but Minhyun has no way of knowing how well Dongho and Minki will do during their reevaluations. If things go the same as last time, they’ll both drop while Jonghyun rises, but Minhyun has already noticed so many minute changes that he can’t say if this will stay the same or not.

 

It’s only a few minutes to go before filming for reevaluations begin, and while everyone else is nervously practicing in the room, Minhyun opts to take a break and sit with his back against the wall to think. He sighs and leans back against the wall, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. It feels good, to just sit like this. If he tries hard enough, Minhyun can almost pretend that he’s back in his old practice room at Pledis, taking a break as Minki and Dongho squabble playfully, Aron egging them on, and Jonghyun’s awkward laugh filling the room.

 

It’s not like those times were stress-free or easy; in fact, even back then every moment was filled with uncertainty and what-ifs, but at least Minhyun had the rest of his members by his side. Now, sitting here and tuning out the world, their absence is even more glaring than before.

 

A sudden thud pulls him out of his thoughts, and Minhyun carefully cracks open an eye to see Guanlin plop himself next to Minhyun. Guanlin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look Minhyun in the eye, but cautiously scoots a little closer to Minhyun until their thighs are only centimeters apart.

 

They sit there in silence as the minutes tick by, Minhyun growing more and more confused with every second that passes. He doesn’t feel awkward around the shy Taiwanese boy, but he’s a bit confused by Guanlin taking the initiative to approach him like this without saying anything. Nothing like this had happened last time, and even after the first few elimination rounds passed, they hadn’t been that close. Guanlin was always more Dongho’s stray puppy than anything else.

 

Thinking of Guanlin inevitably brings up his fellow Cube trainee, and Minhyun stops himself from lingering on the thought of Seonho cuddling up against him during breaks. He has to focus on the now, and it seems like Guanlin wants something from him, even though he himself might now know yet.

 

Minhyun finally breaks the ice. “Nervous?” he asks, turning his head and brushing away a stray bang that falls over his eyes.

 

Guanlin twitches like a startled rabbit, as if he wasn’t expecting that question at all. And he might very well not have, knowing him.

 

“A l-little bit,” he mutters. “I think I’m going to go down to F.”

 

“Ah.”

 

It’s a big of a foregone conclusion, Minhyun knows, because Guanlin doesn’t fully come into his confidence until bonding with Dongho and hearing praise for his rewritten rap in Boy in Luv. As of now, the kid is probably exhausted and stressed, and, if Minhyun remembers correctly, Guanlin’s Korean probably isn’t even that great at this stage.

 

He knows how much the younger boy grows throughout the show, how much everyone grows throughout the show, but seeing Guanlin beaten down like this just reminds Minhyun how far ahead he is of everyone else. It’s not fair, but then again, since when had this show promised that?

 

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch as the clock ticks closer to their reevaluation time, and Minhyun sees Gunalin begin to bite at his nail nervously. Huh, that’s a habit he hadn’t noticed before. Minhyun considers doing nothing about it seeing as he still hasn’t decided what level of skill to show for his own reevaluation, but he caves as soon as he recalls Dongho’s fond protectiveness over Guanlin.

 

Sighing, Minhyun gets to his feet and brushes his pants off. “Do you need some last-minute help?” he offers, trying to speak as clearly as possible. “I know it might be a bit late, but cramming in a few more run throughs won’t hurt, right?”

 

Guanlin stares up at him with wide eyes. Minhyun tries show his sincerity by widening his eyes and nodding a little. It’s not that he doesn’t help people often. Minhyun is a nice guy, he really is, but, okay, maybe his tendency to overanalyze has led to more times sitting in a corner and brooding rather than take significant action. Besides, mentoring has always been more of Jonghyun’s ball park.

 

“I can try to help, even if just a little,” he says to Guanlin. “But if you think you’re okay, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do well regardless. I don’t want you to feel like I’m better than you or anything-”

 

“No, hyung, I get that,” Guanlin interrupts. His voice is a low rumble, each word sticking to the next like molasses. Minhyun wonders if that’s a byproduct of learning another language or if that’s simply how Guanlin speaks normally.

 

“Good,” Minhyun says, relieved. “I’m glad I didn’t say something wrong.”

 

“You didn’t, but…”

 

“But what?”

 

Guanlin’s eyes seem to grow bigger even as his eyebrows draw together. Don’t ask Minhyun to explain how that works, because he can’t. “But what does ‘cramming’ mean?”

 

Minhyun gapes before bursting into loud laughter that draws all the eyes in the room, and all the cameras. It’s so out of place in this overly tense environment, and Guanlin’s eyes dart from side to side like he doesn’t know what to do.

 

Minhyun’s chuckles die down fairly quickly, and he covers his mouth with one hand while petting the top of Guanlin’s head with the other. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he apologizes to the room at large. “You’re just so cute, Guanlin. I’m glad you’re here.”

 

Guanlin’s lips lift into a tentative smile, and he takes the hand Minhyun offers him to stand up. It’s almost time for reevaluations, and Minhyun quickly runs through the steps with Guanlin a few more times. He’s very aware of the cameras that are focused on them, no doubt latching onto this bit of potential storyline and bonding that might make its way to the final cut, but he tries not to let it influence his actions too much. Guanlin is a sweet kid, and though Minhyun had been worried for Jonghyun and Dongho when he heard Guanlin’s name called, he’d been genuinely happy for Guanlin. Though the younger boy clearly knows he’s not ready for debut yet, he was still willing to tackle all the challenges that came with it and grow. That’s something Minhyun can respect.

 

Before he knows it, the staff starts setting up a large camera in the middle of the room, and all the trainees are ushered to the side as they prepare to film their reevaluation videos. Minhyun sticks close to Guanlin when they move, and Hyungseob takes a seat on Minhyun’s other side. He’s a bit surprised by how the other boy has started to try and get close to Minhyun only because he remembers Hyungseob being closer to the other kids his age rather than being a hyung collector like Seonho, but he doesn’t protest when Hyungseob leans his head against Minhyun’s shoulder. He’s just a kid, and if Minhyun can provide a bit of comfort for him in this moment, well, he can do that.

 

He watches Hyungseob perform, admirably well for someone who was told he had no talent for singing only days before. His singing is still unstable, but his dance is energetic and clean, and most of all, Hyungseob knows how to have fun with the camera. The playful wink he shoots in the middle is nothing short of outrageous, and Minhyun has to bite his cheek to stop from laughing in the middle. This is the move that got Hyungseob promoted to A last time around, and Minhyun hopes with all his heart that the same thing happens this time. Hyungseob deserves as much encouragement as he can get.

 

More trainees come and go, some doing better than Minhyun expected and others breaking down under the nerves. Minhyun winces in sympathy whenever he sees that happening. He should know that feeling. After all, it happened to him last time.

 

“Trainee Lai Guanlin!” someone calls from up front, and as Guanlin moves to head over, Minhyun can feel him trembly minutely against him. Before Guanlin can walk over to the filming site, Minhyun tugs on his arm and brings him down quickly, whispering, “You can do it. Fighting!” into his ear and letting him go. He doesn’t know if it helps at all, but Minhyun doesn’t think he’s imagining the looser set of Guanlin’s shoulders as he walks up.

 

It’s too bad that doesn’t translate over to his performance. Minhyun watches, frowning, as Guanlin stumbles through the steps and mumbles through whatever lyrics he remembers, which honestly aren’t much. It might be better than how he did the first time around, Minhyun can’t remember, but when Guanlin is finally finished, he takes his seat again with a bitter look of resignation.

 

“It’s okay,” Minhyun murmurs, patting Guanlin on his thigh. “This isn’t the end.”

 

“It might as well be,” Guanlin replies quietly. “I’m not good. I don’t know anything, and I b-barely know Korean.”

 

Minhyun starts to reply, but stops once the next trainee goes up to film. Once he’s done recording, Minhyun turns back to mutter under his breath, “You’ll go far, don’t worry. You can get better.”

 

What Guanlin says next surprises him.

 

“Hyung, you have to do well too,” Guanlin says. He looks at Minhyun with earnest eyes, the defeated look wiped away and replaced with something else. Affection? Admiration? “You’re the best one here, you have to go higher, okay?”

 

Minhyun’s tongue dries in his mouth, and he licks his lips nervously. “I… Guanlin…”

 

Here’s the thing: logic says that Minhyun should follow the original timeline as closely as possible. He wants to help Nu’est get good publicity, establish their individual reputations, and just barely miss the top eleven. He wants all four Nu’est members to miss the cut so they can ride off their Produce 101 popularity and hopefully get a comeback. That’s the long-term view. Anything other than that is just temporary relief, a bandaid over a leaking boat. He knows that he grows close to all the other trainees but that his closest friends are waiting in Sorry Sorry Team 2. He knows that Guanlin doesn’t need his encouragement, will find friends in Woojin, Jihoon, and the rest, and will find people to look up in Dongho and Jonghyun. He doesn’t _need_ to do anything for Guanlin, doesn’t owe him anything. Minhyun has owed people too much for too long, still owes them, and he doesn’t want to give anything to this kid who will be fine without it. And yet, something in Minhyun stirs when he’s faced with Guanlin’s shining eyes.

 

“Hyung, they’re calling you,” Hyungseob says at his side, nudging him. Minhyun gets up and goes, standing in the center of the room with the lights glaring down on him. He can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes: the other trainees, the camera men, the cameras themselves, but he can’t shake the feeling that Guanlin is tracking him more intensely than anyone else. A sudden panic strikes him just before the music plays, and Minyun freezes.

 

What is he doing? Just follow the plan, follow the plan and get Nu’est recognized, and then get back to Nu’est. He doesn’t have the time to be standing here like an idiot.

 

He’s waited too long, the music is about to start, and Minhyun doesn’t know what to do. This shouldn’t be as hard of a choice as he should, and Minhyun knows that he’s overthinking this. What is that Jonghyun used to say about overthinking? _Don’t worry._

Yeah. Okay. Minhyun has spent so much of his life doing nothing but worrying that he normally laughs off Jonghyun’s advice with a quick, “look at yourself before talking to me,” but this time… Maybe this time, he can let some of that go.

 

So Minhyun takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and as the first familiar notes of Nayana start playing, he lets himself dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely feedback on the previous chapter! I'm glad people are enjoying this fic. What do you think about some of the changes that are happening now? Is Minhyun's logic right, or is he overthinking things? Let me know what you think, and I'll hopefully see you all with a new update soon! :)


	3. Episode 3

3

 

To Minhyun’s chagrin, he looks good in pink. When he’s called up to receive his new evaluation, he knows that it can’t be anything other than an A, a B if he’s being pessimistic. He can’t really remember anything past the few opening notes, but he’d been greeted with a round of applause when he finished. Sitting back, he looks at the faces of the other trainees, trying to get a read on their reactions. Some have better poker faces than others, and he can see Hyungseob hiding a grin when he looks down at his envelope. He’s glad for him, but he can also sense Guanlin’s disappointment next to him.

 

“Trainees who have moved to A class, please stand,” Kahi calls from the front of the room. Minhyun doesn’t move, and neither does Hyungseob for just a moment. It’s only until the staff member behind the camera gestures them to get up that the two rise to their feet. Hyungseob shoots him a relieved smile, and the other trainees applaud as they begin to leave the room.

 

Before he goes, Minhyun makes sure to drop his hand on top of Guanlin’s head for a quick ruffle, catching the way the camera zooms in. The way Guanlin leans into the touch sends a pang through Minhyun, and he hurries to catch up with Hyungseob as they leave the room.

 

Hyungseob is almost running ahead of him, impatiently glancing over his shoulder like he wants Minhyun to hurry up. Minhyun absently gestures for him to go ahead, and the boy is off like a shot, creating the iconic moment of tripping into the A level room. Minhyun needs a bit more time to himself, though.

 

It’s not using Guanlin, Minhyun reasons to himself. He’s genuinely fond of the younger, and he’s not just doing it because he knows it will help his on-screen image. _You didn’t bother reaching out the first time around,_ a voice whispers inside of him, but Minhyun viciously shoves it away. He didn’t have the opportunity the first time, so this is just him getting to know certain people more. So what if it’ll endear him to the viewers? He made it the first time without creating this bond with Guanlin, he can do it a second time.

 

By the time he arrives at the upstairs room, Minhyun has calmed down a little but he can sense the room’s stormy atmosphere from even outside the glass walls. Hyungseob is already sitting, and when Minhyun opens the door and bows politely, he’s greeted by no applause and only a few sidelong looks. Taking his seat, Minhyun props his chin in one hand and waits for the rest of the A elevated trainees to arrive.

 

Insoo, Dongha, and Jinyoung join them from C to little fanfare, and while Minhyun can’t quite tell if that’s the same this time around, it doesn’t seem too out of place. The rest of the previously B ranked trainees file in, and Jonghyun isn’t among them. It’s when little Woojin enters with Daniel hot on his heels that Minhyun is sure that nothing has changed outside of his own rank. He ignores the A ranked trainees receiving their grades because he knows they all stay in the first place and instead starts thinking about what to do for the center battle.

 

Frankly, Minhyun has no interest in taking the center position. Daehwi was a great center the first time around, and the kid caught enough flack for being greedy or arrogant that Minhyun isn’t about to take away the first positive publicity that he had. He still has to come up with something, though, and he has the luxury of extra time that the others don’t have.

 

He’s so immersed in thought that he doesn’t notice when BoA tells them all to head to the stage. It’s only after someone taps his shoulder that Minhyun startles and looks up. Daniel is grinning broadly at him, one arm slung over little Woojin as they stand above Minhyun.

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Daniel greets cheerfully. “Congrats on the promotion.”

 

“You too,” Minhyun says automatically. He takes Daniel’s outstretched hand and lets himself get dragged to his feet. They walk down the corridor together, Daniel chattering away nonstop to the delight of little Woojin while Minhyun takes the time to brood again.

 

“Hey.”

 

Minhyun feels Daniel pressing close against him and suffers the contact with a strained oomph. Those sixty centimeter shoulders really pack a punch when pressed up against you, he thinks dryly.

 

“You’re thinking too much,” Daniel says. “I can feel you stressing from here.”

 

“Who says I’m stressed?” Minhyun shoots back. “And what happened to being all formal and polite to me like last night?”

 

Daniel waves a dismissive hand. “Eh. You told me to be familiar with you so I’m just listening to what you said. Besides, anyone who was in Jonghyun hyung’s group can’t be that uptight.”

 

Minhyun’s ears prick up at the sound of Jonghyun’s name. “How’s he been?” he asks. “He didn’t…”

 

“Didn’t go down, don’t worry,” Daniel says lightly. “I think he would’ve moved up if it weren’t for his singing. That guy really can’t carry a note to save his life, huh?”

 

Minhyun snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

 

They walk in companionable silence for a few seconds before Daniel suddenly says, “Hey, so I don’t know you that well yet or anything, but…” He trails off.

 

“But what?” Minhyun prompts.

 

“I know you have a lot riding on this program. I followed all the media coverage like everyone else, you know, ‘monitoring for potential rivals’ or whatever,” Daniel says with his fingers raised in air quotes. “And I know it’s only been a few days and we haven’t really talked much, but I think we should. Talk more, I mean. And I think you should talk to more people in general.”

 

Minhyun blinks once. Twice. “Huh,” he says. “Have I not been talking to people?”

 

“Not as much as everyone else,” Daniel points out shrewdly. “And look, I talked to a few of the D level guys, and they all said you’re super helpful and teach them a lot-”

 

“I don’t really-”

 

“-but maybe let other people get to know you besides you helping them? Then you can actually have other people to talk to instead of brooding alone.”

 

“I don’t _brood-_ ” Minhyun starts to protest before noticing Daniel’s shaking shoulders. The younger is silently laughing at Minhyun’s offended expression, and Minhyun feels his vague irritation slip away immediately.

 

“Okay, maybe I brood a little,” he acquiesces. “But you’d brood too if you were in my position.”

 

“Eh, who knows,” Daniel shrugs, coming out of his laughing fit. “I don’t really know how I’d react if I had all that pressure on my shoulder, but I think we should make the best of this program while we’re on it, right?”

 

“I guess,” Minhyun agrees. Daniel seems satisfied with the answer, and Minhyun feels a rush of affection for Daniel. Everyone had liked the easygoing guy the first time around, and Minhyun hopes that Daniel does just as well this time around too.

 

They take their seats by the center stage, and Minhyun catches all his members’ eyes as he sits in the back. Jonghyun looks fine, a bit tired, but no worse for usual wear in that orange sweater. Dongho looks haggard, and his stubble is standing out harshly against his fair skin. It looks like Dongho dropped back to D after all, and Minki is sitting despondently with the rest of the F’s.

 

Minhyun can’t do much but nod in their direction, but Minki barely responds, only glancing upwards and shaking his head. Minhyun bites his lip but doesn’t say anything.

 

“It looks like it’s being set up for a battle?” Daniel questions out loud, sitting next to Minhyun.

 

Minhyun hums in agreement and then, because he’s selfishly rather fond of his “Emperor Hwang” nickname, says, “I wonder if they’ll make us battle for the center.”

 

“Oh! That would be so stressful, can you imagine?”

 

“In fact, I can,” Minhyun says dryly.

 

To everyone’s surprise but his own, BoA comes out and announces that the A ranked trainees will be battling for the role of center at the first evaluation stage, and Minhyun rolls his eyes when Daniel whispers, “Wow, you’re kinda freaky,” under his breath.

 

The A ranked trainees are given some time to begin to prepare, and Minhyun taps his foot absently while looking around. He knows all the routines that people will prepare, and as he doesn’t see the need to push himself as one of the center candidates, he’s decided on a simple singing demonstration with a bit of dance to go alongside it. It’s nothing flashy, and it shouldn’t even make the broadcast, but if it does it’ll simply show that he’s got solid skills.

 

He catches sight of Daehwi climbing to the bleachers out of the corner of his eye and winces. This is the same stunt that was used as evidence for Daehwi’s so-called “attitude problems” in the beginning, and Minhyun knows that the kid comes out alright (better than alright, really, how can you say that third place is not alright), but Minhyun’s heart clenches a bit at the sight.

 

Minhyun hasn’t really thought about all the scandals that this season had. So many were either off-broadcast or small arbitrary details that netizens picked up on and decided to witch hunt people for. Either way, there’s not a lot Minhyun can do about it. He could tell Daehwi to try being a little more humble, but he hasn’t even said two words to the Brand New Music trainee, and it would no doubt come off as condescension from a senior in the industry. Besides, Daehwi climbing up it less of an issue than his justification in the interview that comes after.

 

Minhyun remembers watching every broadcast, crammed in one of the tiny dorm rooms with whoever was available to stream it. At first, it had just been the Nu’est members who huddled together with the volume playing as loudly as they dared. Then, it had grown to the members of Sorry Sorry Team 2. By the time third eliminations rolled around, none of the trainees bothered with subtleties and watched together, making room where they could by sitting on laps, hanging off beds, and squishing together wherever they could. There would either be exclamations of happiness or disappointment depending on how certain edits came out, but by the end, all of them understood that the situation was largely out of their control.

 

Those feeling come back to Minhyun now, and he lets himself stare at Daehwi for just a bit longer before turning back with a sigh. Besides, he tells himself, it’s better to control the variables and let things happen as they did before. That way, Minhyun’s own chosen actions will have the biggest impact.

 

Center evaluations go largely the way Minhyun remembers. Daniel makes the same naïve mistake of bringing a lyric sheet up with him, Woojin blows everyone out of the water, etc. The only change is that Minhyun gets shoehorned in-between Hyungseob and Taedong’s equally disastrous performances, and he calmly performs a short routine of singing and dancing. He receives acknowledging applause that he dips his head in acknowledgement to and walks down. As expected, Daehwi draws attention with his mix of Pick Me and Nayana, and Minhyun applauds with everyone else, his mind already hours ahead.

 

Group battles are coming up, and group battles are, well, the start of everything.  Minhyun lets himself, in Daniel’s words, brood all through the dance battle that he knows is broadcasted episodes later at the first elimination, and doesn’t blink an eye at the appearance of the season one I.O.I. girls or join in the wild shenanigans happening on stage.

 

As far as he can tell, nothing changes outside of anything directly related to himself, so the number of variables he has to keep track of is at least limited to his own actions. However, the upcoming group battles are another story. The last time, Minhyun’s name was pulled when he was in D rank, and now he’s in A. Theoretically, the rank he’s in doesn’t affect his chances since, as BoA was so sure to remind them, everyone had an equal chance of getting selected. So Minhyun shouldn’t have to do anything beyond getting his original Sorry Sorry Team 2 together again and let things run their course.

 

They’re given a quick break between filming as the staff members go to set up for the upcoming group song selections. Minhyun finds himself caught in a random conversation with a trainee whose name he can’t even remember (must’ve been eliminated early), and he smiles politely as the other prattles on and on about how exciting it is for him to see Minhyun in person and how Nu’est was his favorite group.

 

What a joke. As if Nu’est was anyone’s favorite group.

 

The thought is bitter enough that Minhyun surprises himself, and he excuses himself from the conversation with a quick excuse about going to bathroom and finds himself drifting between clumps of people. He’s familiar with most of these people, close to a good number of them, and yet he can’t bring himself to approach any. Seonho is clinging to Guanlin in the corner, hugging the older boy enthusiastically while Guanlin pats his back… less enthusiastically. For a second, Minhyun almost gives in to the urge to go over and pet Seonho on the head, let the younger boy latch onto him like he was so prone to doing. But no, right now they don’t know each yet. Eyeing the two Cube trainees thoughtfully, Minhyun considers when he and Seonho began getting close in the first. Was it during group battles? It must’ve been, considering how they were both preparing for Sorry Sorry.

 

Minhyun swallows the sudden lump in his throat. Everything is so different now. As much as he hates the result that came out, he can’t help but admit that he misses certain things about the future too, like the relationships he’d forged among the other trainees. It’s weird, he thinks to himself. When he’d first realized what had happened, his only thought was making sure Nu’est would somehow come out for the better. He doesn’t have time to be selfish and think about the relationships he’s going to have in a few days anyway, so what’s with the random nostalgia bubbling up inside him?

 

Whatever. He can’t dwell too long on that, nor does he want to, so he wanders until he can locate Jonghyun and stands by his shoulder until the other notices him.

 

“What’s up? You did well in the center evaluation,” Jonghyun greets. His spirits seem higher after the dance battle, even though he didn’t compete.

 

“Nah, I did the basics,” Minhyun dismisses. “It wasn’t my goal to get center anyway.”

 

Jonghyun hums thoughtfully, hip-checking Minhyun. “You should put yourself out there more. You could be a good center too.”

 

Minhyun snorts. “Pot calling the kettle black much?” he asks. Jonghyun only smiles sheepishly in response.

 

Minhyun shifts on his feet. “The group battles are next,” he says abruptly. Jonghyun nods in acknowledgement and looks expectantly at Minhyun, waiting for him to say more. Minhyun sighs deeply through his nose. “I want to be on the same team as you,” he says.

 

Jonghyun chuckles. “You can’t really control that,” he points out. “If things go like they did last season, the A ranks get to pick, but someone else might have picked me before you, though I don’t know why.”

 

“There are tons of reasons to pick you,” Minhyuk says immediately. “Tons of people will want to pick you once they see how great you are. Not just the other trainees,” he adds. “But the national producers too.” A small part of him hates how easily that title rolls off his tongue now, but another part is so used to it that he barely notices the shame.

 

“Haha,” Jonghyn laughs awkwardly. “Thanks. But it might not be a good idea to pick me. What’ll people say if the Nu’est members always stick together?”

 

 “Don’t worry about that,” Minhyun reassures. “As long as we avoid explicitly talking about Nu’est too much, people can draw the connection on their own, but we can’t be blamed for it. Besides, whatever team we end up with is gonna need strong leadership, and I can’t think of anyone better than you.”

 

Scratching the back of his head, Jonghyun ducks his chin. “We’ll see,” he says. “No one knows what’s going to happen, so we should just make the best of our situation now.”

 

Minhyun bites his tongue and nods.

 

It’s only when they line up for team selections that Minhyun realizes he’s nervous about this. He shifts from one foot to another, trying not to glance over at Jonghyun or Dongho or Minki for reassurance they can’t give him. There’s no reason to be nervous, he reminds himself. It’s not like their team’s dynamics will suddenly change just because Minhyun has already done this before, not if he keeps his own emotions in check.

 

Standing here has made Minhyun realize that he’s looking forward to the formation of their so-called “legendary” team and nervous about seeing all his friends again in equal measure. It’s less that he doesn’t want to see them and more that he might accidentally let something slip. Minhyun prides himself on his logic and foresight, but there’s no telling what a stray moment of carelessness might lead to. It’ll be fine as long as his emotions don’t get in the way.

 

All the boys start whooping and hollering as soon as BoA walks in, and Minhyun joins in after brief hesitation. He’s seen the national representative enough times for the awe to have worn off, but that’s not the case for everyone else, and he has to make an effort not to appear ungrateful or ill-tempered on air.

 

The announcements go by quickly, and before long, Daehwi is walking down to pick his team. The “Avengers” are formed, and Minhyun carefully studies the distraught and annoyed expressions surrounding him. Daehwi doesn’t even try to hide his satisfaction, and the rest of the flower boys joining him on stage seem equally optimistic.  No matter. Minhyun knows how this ends, and he grimaces at the thought of the hate comments that will come in flood.

 

When Daehwi plunges his hand in the glass box, Minhyun holds his breath. It would be so easy, he thinks, for Daehwi to shuffle around for just a second longer, to knock one of the balls out of the way and pull another name out instead-

 

“A class trainee, Hwang Minhyun,” Daehwi announces. Minhyun barely notices the applause as he sags in relief, dropping to his knees for a brief second before pulling himself up. He accepts the high five Daniel offers as he walks up, mentally preparing what names to say. It’s simple, he thinks. Individual trainee Kim Jaehwan, MMO Kang Daniel, YGK+ Kwon Hyunbin, Fantagio Ong Seongwoo, and Pledis Kim Jonghyun. His reasoning for choosing them all the first time was solid, and nothing has changed this time around. If anything, Minhyun has even more faith in his decision, though he’s sure that living through the outcome before everyone else has its fair share of advantages too.

 

He’s all prepared with his choices, but when Minhyun turns to face the crowd of expectant faces, he falters. It’s so easy to pick out Minki and Dongho’s expectant faces in the crowd, to catch Guanlin’s eye and see Hyungseob’s clasped hands. But, Minhyun fiercely reminds himself, none of them matter right now. They’ll be fine on their own; he needs to focus on getting on the right track.

 

“Individual trainee, Kim Jaehwan,” he says.

 

One by one, his friends line up beside him. Minhyun lets his breathing steady once Jonghyun takes his place next to Seongwoo who keeps glancing at Minhyun from the corner of his eye. Minhyun gratefully lets the next trainee come up, and he retreats to the stands with the rest of his team.

 

Hyunbin looks nervous, standing among all the pink and orange, and with a start, Minhyun realizes that his team is even more visibly stacked this time around since he’s no longer in D, but A. That makes it three As, two Bs, and an F, and Minhyun curses to himself when he realizes that this could reflect badly on himself. He makes a mental note to cover his tracks during the interview segment and maybe drop a few hints to his other group members so they don’t say anything too arrogant.

 

Minhyun doesn’t run too hard for the race, putting in just enough effort to make it look like he’s trying. Team opponent selections drags on, and Minhyun keeps a calm poker face as they move further and further down the line without being picked. It’s not a concern, he knows how this ends. As far as he’s concerned, this part of the show can proceed exactly as it did the first half and everything will work out fine.

 

It’s only when they gather together to choose leader and center that Minhyun realizes how things may have changed.

 

“So… leader,” Daniel begins hesitantly. Jaehwan’s eyes dart from side to side, and Hyunbin looks down at his crossed legs. Jonghyun is clearly nervous, and Minhyun waits for Seongwoo to initiate, to suggest that Jonghyun is the best leader.

 

To his surprise and discomfit, Seongwoo says nothing at all.

 

Minhyun looks at him, furrowing his brow, trying to make out Seongwoo serene expression. The silence drags on, everyone exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another, and Minhyun is left reeling when Jonghyun says:

 

“I think Minhyun should be leader.”

 

“What?” he blurts, failing to mask his surprise. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Minhyun is calm and level-headed,” Jonghyun explains to the rest of the group as he effectively ignores Minhyun’s outburst. “And he clearly has the ability since he moved up to A rank.”

 

“If it’s just ability we’re talking about, there are three A ranks here,” Jaehwan points out. He looks calm and focused, and even as Minhyun recalls his psychopathic joy as he ran towards him with lipstick, he can’t find any trace of that laughing boy now. There’s still too much at stake. “You… don’t you have previous leadership experience?”

 

“I think Jonghyun hyung gives off leadership vibes,” Hyunbin pipes up nervously. He fiddles with his fingers as he continues, “He seems most suited to be leader out of all of us here.”

 

“I agree,” Minhyun jumps in. He can feel his heart jackhammering against his chest, and his pulse is pounding in his ears. “Because Jonghyun has been leader before…”

 

He trails off. He can’t mention Nu’est that explicitly, that won’t do him or the group any favors. It’s the elephant in the room, the factor that only exists within the show as long as they acknowledge it, yet looming in everyone’s minds outside the show. Clenching his teeth, Minhyun tries to organize an argument in his head.

 

“What do you think, Seongwoo?” Daniel asks. He might not know it, but Daniel’s question gives Minhyun time to stall, and he shoots an unnoticed but grateful look at the other boy.

 

Seongwoo is absently plucking at the carpet, only looking up when he’s directly addressed. “Uh…” he says eloquently.

 

Minhyun is beyond confused and stressed. Last time around, this hadn’t even been an argument, and this was before Jonghyun became the default leader for every group he was in. Why isn’t Seongwoo saying anything? He was the one who started the suggestion in the first place, and Minhyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen the other so quiet in his time on the show.

 

Seongwoo is supposed to be the loud dorky character, the cocky mood maker who cracks jokes and relieves tense atmospheres. This Seongwoo, serious with his head down, is unfamiliar to Minhyun, and that scares him. That scares him a lot.

 

“I think Jonghyun is a good choice,” Seongwoo finally says. Minhyun realizes that he’s been leaning forward, fists clenched around his thighs, and he forces himself to sit back and relax. “But Minhyun also seems to know what he’s doing-”

 

“What are you saying?” Minhyun interrupts. He doesn’t think he’s been this terrified in his life, not even standing on stage waiting for his name to be called as one of the top eleven, not even when more and more seats were taken with Jonghyun still standing so far beneath him. “If Jonghyun isn’t leader, who’s going to be? Is there anyone who will lead us as well as him?”

 

“I’m just saying!” Seongwoo defends himself, raising two hands in a “woah, there” gesture. “You two are both experienced so-”

 

“I trust Jonghyun!” Minhyun explodes. Every head in the vicinity swivels around to see who the idiot that’s openly yelling on a survival show is. If it were anyone else, any other subject, Minhyun would be mortified to be so emotional at such a crucial point, but that’s beyond his consideration at the moment. “I trust Jonghyun,” he says again. “If I got to choose my leader for the rest of the life, there’s no one I would choose but him.”

 

His teammates are staring at him with wide eyes, Jonghyun’s the widest of all, all shiny and glisetening and- oh no, oh, shoot, Minhyun’s fucked it up, hasn’t he. He’s gone and almost made Jonghyun cry.

 

Silence stretches over them, undercut by the confused murmurs from other teams who apparently have no leaders or centers of their own to fight over so they choose instead to observe the impending drama of Minhyun’s team. He breathes heavily, fighting to get his emotional under control when he doesn’t know how they got to this point to begin with.

 

It was supposed to be simple. Assemble Sorry Sorry Team 2, make Jonghyun leader, watch things play out, yet somehow things have been thrown into disarray, including his own emotions.

 

“Um…”

 

Everyone turns to look at their youngest, Hyunbin having scooted closer to Jonghyun without any of them noticing. He has one thigh pressed comfortingly against Jonghyun’s leg, and his hand is raised like he’s in school. Hyunbin hunches over a little when he realizes that everyone’s attention is focused on him, and he slowly lowers his hand.

 

“What does Jonghyun hyung think about all this?” he asks.

 

Minhyun gapes. Jonghyun is still staring at him, eyes suspiciously watery, and he sniffs loudly once.

 

A bolt of guilt shoots through Minhyun, and he sits back. “Sorry,” he says. “I let myself get carried away, and I didn’t consider how you feel. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jonghyun says, but his voice is suspiciously nasal. “Uh, thanks, Hyunbin, for asking. I appreciate it.”

 

“So?” Daniel chimes in expectantly. “What do you think, Jonghyun hyung? We should probably hear from your perspective since we obviously know what Minhyun hyung thinks.”

 

The joke breaks the tension, and Jaehwan snorts by Daniel’s side while Hyunbin giggles into his hand. Jonghyun smiles a tiny smile, and Minhyun latches onto Daniel’s quip like it’s a lifeline and he’s drowning.

 

“I can’t help it, I’m very sure of what I want,” he says lightly, prompting another round of laughter from his teammates. He waits until he’s sure the camera has had several good shots of them enjoying the joke before seriously adding, “But I think our time is running out, we should probably get down to business.”

 

“So, Jonghyun. Do you want to be leader?”

 

At that, Jonghyun looks down. Then he looks up. Then he looks from one side to another. All the other trainees have gone back to their own team logistics, clearly deciding that they needed to focus on their own survival before others. That’s what Minhyun is supposed to focus on too, but instead he’s having emotional outbursts by randomly crying during company evaluations and yelling at his team. What is happening to him?

 

“I…” Jonghyun starts.

 

Minhyun waits, trying not to let tension bleed from his shoulders, but from the way both Jaehwan and Daniel are eyeing him, he doesn’t think he’s succeeding.

 

“I’m… okay,” Jonghyun says finally. “If you want me to be leader, I can be leader.”

 

“Okay, then that’s decided!” Daniel declares. “Leader, Kim Jonghyun!” He’s clearly happy to get the whole debacle over as he sing-songs the title, reaching to slap the L sticker onto Jonghyun’s sweater. Jaehwan helps by humming a wedding tune, and Minhyun joins in briefly with a harmony that makes Jaehwan startle. Hyunbin is just smiling at the side, a little unsure of what just happened but glad that things have somehow resolved themselves.

 

At the side, Seongwoo still hasn’t said anything, and Minhyun worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUSTICE LEAGUE APPEARS. You have no idea how much i played with the idea of splitting Justice League up, but I just couldn't do it in the end. Also, the reason why I kept saying Sorry Sorry Team 2 rather than Justice League is because, as far as I know, that nickname wasn't as huge in Korea as it was internationally, so Minhyun identifying with it wouldn't make as much sense. A lot of this fic is also just me looking back on how things played out, so there's that too, haha.


	4. Episode 4

4

 

They still decide on Seongwoo as center because Minhyun insists, and Jonghyun backs him up with no prompting. Minhyun has the feeling that he’s starting to scare the other trainees after he catches a glimpse of his own reflection during a bathroom break. His eyes look wild, and his hair is a mess from where he’s been unconsciously tugging at it. This is not the image of CEO Hwang, much less that of normal Hwang.

 

Minhyun bends over the sink and splashes some water on his face, trying to pull himself back together. It’s not like any of the trainees have time to go to a professional salon in the morning at this stage in the competition, so he’s not afraid of his minimal concealer washing off. He can just reapply it later.

 

Eyes shut against the water, Minhyun gropes blindly around for a towel and feels a wad of paper towels extended to him by someone’s hand.

 

“Thanks,” he grunts, eyes still closed. Quickly patting his face dry, Minhyun sighs and examines himself in the mirror once more. Better, he decides, even though you can see the growing zit on his nose bridge. He turns to properly thank whoever handed him the paper towel and freezes as soon as he sees who it is.

 

There, leaning casually against the sinks with his eyes averted, is Ong Seongwoo.

 

Minhyun carefully stands, still holding the damp towel in one hand. Eyeing Minhyun out of the corner of his eye, Minhyun walks over to the trash can and drops the towel in. He waits for Seongwoo to say something, but the other boy is determinedly avoiding making eye contact.

 

Minhyun frowns.

 

“What’s up?” he asks carefully.

 

Seongwoo purses his lips and looks to the side. “Dunno.”

 

This isn’t the Seongwoo knows. Seongwoo is chatty, never missing an opportunity to espouse on his own charms or crack a joke at the expense of whoever’s nearest. He stood out even at the company evaluations with his boldness. Luckily for him, he had the skills to back it up, but this Seongwoo, looking down at the ground and avoiding talking, is completely unfamiliar.

 

“Did you want to talk to me about something?” Minhyun asks.

 

Seongwoo looks to the side and worries his lip between his teeth. Minhyun starts to grow impatient, and to be honest, it’s kind of awkward standing here in the bathroom where anyone can walk in on two trainees in some sort of strange standoff.

 

“Look, if you don’t have anything to say, we should get back to practice,” Minhyun states. He begins to walk toward the door. “Now-“

 

“You got pretty emotional today,” Seongwoo says, shifting from foot to foot. “When we were choosing leaders, I mean.”

 

Minhyun narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I remember,” he says testily. “It wasn’t that long ago after all.”

 

“Does that usually happen?” Seongwoo asks.

 

“No,” Minhyun says. “I don’t really know what came over me, but things turned out fine, didn’t they?”

 

Seongwoo doesn’t answer, and Minhyun shifts so he’s facing away from the door and towards Seongwoo still leaned against the sinks.

 

“If you have a problem with our decision to make Jonghyun leader,” he begins. “You should have said it during the process. I asked, remember? I asked if you had anything to say, and you said that either Jonghyun or I seemed good. So what’s the matter?”

 

Seongwoo bites his lip, and Minhyun feels irriation growing inside of him. It’s not like Seongwoo- not like the Seongwoo he knew, at least, to be so timid and unsure. He’s not sure what the purpose of Seongwoo confronting him in the bathroom like this is in the first place, but he’s been getting stressed out by constantly wondering what’s wrong with Seongwoo, and it’s better to take care of this now rather than later.

 

“It’s not that I don’t think Jonghyun shouldn’t be leader,” Seongwoo says. “I’m worried about something else.”

 

“What something else?” Minhyun asks. “The longer you take to say it, the more practice time we waste. I’m started to get impatient.”

 

Just then, the door bumps up against Minhyun’s side, and he stumbles back as Hyunbin pokes his head in.

 

“Excuse me- oh, hyungs, so you were here after all,” he says, blinking cutely. “Jonghyun hyung wants to know what’s taking you so long and that practice is starting again.” He blinks again, tilting his head when he notices how they’re standing. “By the way, why are you standing so closely together?”

 

Minhyun gulps. “It’s nothing,” he says quickly. “Seongwoo and I were just chatting, right?”

 

Seongwoo ignores him and takes a step back, turning away. Minhyun notices that his fists are clenched, and Seongwoo strides to the opposite wall and crouches, letting out a brief yell of frustration while clenching his hair.

 

“What’s wrong with Seongwoo hyung?” Hyunbin asks, panic crossing his face. “Seongwoo hyung, are you okay?”

 

“He’s fine,” Minhyun hurries to reassure him. “I think he’s just a bit frustrated and tired right now, stressed, like we all are. Don’t worry about it. Go back and let Jonghyun know we’re on our way, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Hyunbin says, still a little unsure. His eyes slid to Seongwoo’s crouched figure, and he makes a move as if to go to him, but Minhyun catches him before he does, hands wrapping around one shoulder.

 

“I have it under control,” he says quietly. “Trust me on this, okay?”

 

And Hyunbin, precious Hyunbin, Hyunbin who cried after being scolded and gave it his all from then on, Hyunbin who stopped smiling after seeing all the hate he was receiving online but still wanted to learn and try his best, Hyunbin who supported Jonghyun more than anyone else, Hyunbin who Jonghyun built up and made better and learned to trust Jonghyun with his life and everything in- Hyunbin who, as of now, has no reason whatsoever to trust Minhyun, looks Minhyun straight in the eyes, smiles, and says, “Okay.”

 

With that, somehow it is.

 

Hyunbin leaves, and as Minhyun listens to his footsteps pattering down the hallway, he sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

 

“Seongwoo,” he calls. “Seongwoo, look at me.”

 

Seongwoo, true to his original personality, refuses to move from his crouched position, and Minhyun has no choice but to go to him instead.

 

“Ah… Seongwoo, are you okay?” he asks, kneeling beside the other boy. He winces at the throught of his knees touching the dirty bathroom ground but endures it, trying to get Seongwoo to lift his head from where its stubbornly buried between his arms. “Seongwoo, come on,” he tries again. “What’s the matter?”

 

Slowly, Seongwoo lifts his head and stares at Minhyun, properly looking him in the eyes for the first time. Unfortunately, that only lasts for a second before Seongwoo ducks his head again. “It’s hard to say,” he mumbles.

 

“Why?” Minhyun tries to patient and coax the answer out of Seongwoo. On one level, if he doesn’t figure out what’s bothering Seongwoo now, their team chemistry won’t look as good on-stage, and then where will that leave the legendary Sorry Sorry Team 2? That’s the logical answer. On a more emotional note, Minhyun isn’t afraid to admit that he misses Seongwoo’s company, the lively moodmaker who always made him laugh. “Seongwoo, tell me. We’re a team, we can figure it out together.”

 

“Are we, though?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are we really a team?” This time, Seongwoo properly fixes his eyes onto Minhyun, boring a hole through him. “You picked us without even thinking about it, the same way Daehwi picked his Avengers team.” It’s as if Minhyun unblocked a river dammed up for years as words tumble from Seongwoo’s lips without stopping. “And then you pushed Jonghyun for leader like that, without even thinking about considering yourself, right? I don’t know what it means. We’re all desperate, that’s why we’re here. We’re here because there’s no other choice. I know what it means that you guys, a five-year-old idol group are here, and honestly? It’s kind of driving me crazy. If you just support one another, where does that leave the rest of us? I don’t know if I can trust you, I _can’t_ trust you when you start shouting like that in the middle of filming-”

 

“What are you trying to say?” Minhyun interrupts, pulse quickening. “I’m trying to do what’s best for my team, this is a competition. You can’t blame me for looking out for my team-”

 

“But this isn’t looking out for them!”

 

The words land in the middle of stunned silence, and after staring at each other for a few seconds, Seongwoo slowly gets to his feet, brushing himself off. He clears his throat and adjusts the neckline of his sweater, looking a far cry from the frenzied wreck he was a second ago, and Minhyun would be impressed if he weren’t still so confused and even a little angry.

 

“I just think,” Seongwoo says. “That you should have a broader view. You’re too focused on Nu’est right now. Do you know how you look to everyone else?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Minhyun asks. He knows exactly how he comes off, it’s what earned him his nicknames the first time around. Emperor Hwang, CEO Hwang… he’s logical and calculating, stone faced and unemotional unless he’s laughing. “I know myself, I come off-”

 

“-as obsessed,” Seongwoo says firmly. “Look, I know I haven’t been interacting with you guys a lot, and I know I wasn’t contributing a lot earlier, but there’s a reason for that. The rest of the Nu’est members aren’t the problem: you are.”

 

“How so?” Minhyun challenges.

 

“The first thing you did when you got here was cry during company evaluations. Then you gained a reputation for leading the D class trainees, advanced to A, clearly didn’t put in a ton of effort for center selection, and now you’re not even considering being leader. What does that say to you, hm?”

 

Minhyun is taken aback. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Think about it. You just said you know yourself, right? Try to look at your actions now, and tell me where the logic is.”

 

Minhyun opens his mouth immediately to refute Seongwoo’s points, but a thought strikes him, and he closes it. Huh. The things that Seongwoo listed as all differences from his original timeline, and Minhyun doesn’t think that he’s done anything in particular to standout. He’d surprised himself when he cried during company evaluations and just acted according to what he knew during D class. Of course he’d noticed that the staff were interviewing him with a focus on leadership questions, but he’s not a leader. That’s why Jonghyun was supposed to be leader and is leader now, but…

 

“No one else here acts the way you do. No one else gives off the same vibe as you,” Seongwoo says. “Frankly, it’s unsettling. Have you noticed yet? Because if you haven’t, I’m going to spell it out for you,” Seongwoo says, tapping one foot impatiently against the ground.

 

A part of Minhyun wants to ask how their situations became so reversed, with Minhyun cowering before Seongwoo rather than the other way around, but a bigger part is preoccupied by his whirling thoughts. What is he missing?

 

“Spell it out for me then,” he says, resigned.

 

“What you say and what you do don’t match up,” Seongwoo says, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re overly analytical and too cold with your judgments. We’re already being judged, but no one likes being treated like extras.”

 

With that, Seongwoo turns on his heels and stalks off, probably about to be gently scolded by Jonghyun for missing so much of their practice time.

 

Minhyun is left stunned in the bathroom as he tries to process what Seongwoo just said. Him? Treating others like extras? There’s no way.

 

Minhyun is logical. Of course he is, it’s the one way that he’s learned to survive in the idol industry. Instead of throwing temper tanstrums or questioning why the world is unfair, break it down into little pieces. The reason why this happened is this. Jonghyun is awkward because he plays too many games and reads too much manga. Minki is the most popular because he has a polarizing looks that automatically catch your eye. Dongho strains his vocals sometimes because he’s had surgery. Aron isn’t on Produce 101 because his temperament isn’t suited to such a trying and humiliating show. Minhyun is here because he needs to make things right for Nu’est.

 

Those are the facts.

 

Looking back on his actions, Minhyun tries to pinpoint moments where he acted coldly, apparently so blatantly that Seongwoo, one of the most easygoing guys Minhyun knows, would call him out like this. So far, he’s the only one, but Minhyun suddenly remembers the multiple times he spurned conversations with other trainees he would have gladly held before, times he ignored people trying to talk to him in favor of planning his next move. Sure, he might have helped the D level guys a bit and received praise for it, but has Minhyun gone back to talk to any of them? With a start, he realizes that he can’t remember the last time he approchaed or saw Guanlin and Hyungseob other than when he was picking teams. That’s not how a leader acts.

 

But he was never trying to be a leader. _Does that make a difference_? a small voice questions. Maybe it doesn’t matter if Minhyun unintentionally gave himself that image. Other people look at him that way, Seongwoo’s made that clear enough, and he’s not stupid enough to miss the fact that the staff were clearly angling for a leadership image during his individual interview. It’s not his fault that he’s not playing along with Mnet’s games, though. Minhyun isn’t a leader and never will be, that’s not a role that he’s suited for. If he screws up Mnet’s biased storytelling, fine, that’s not a problem. As far as Minhuyn is concerned, nothing is a problem unless it somehow harms Nu’est and their chances.

 

He doesn’t think his actions have reflected that so far. At least, not that he knows of. Whatever Seongwoo says doesn’t have to the be truth, and Minhyun knows Seongwoo is also probably stressed about his own chances of debut. Everyone had speculated that Seongwoo would drop during one pick votes since he was popular as everyone’s second pick, but it hadn’t been until the finale that Seongwoo was able to confirm his popularity. Still, the other must feel anxious right now, and Minhyun probably didn’t help with his emotional outburst.

 

There must be something more to it, though, something that Minhyun is missing, but he can’t stay here forever. Minhyun numbly exits the bathroom and lets his feet lead him back to the practice rooms where Jonghyun looks at his curiously while Seongwoo pointedly starts talking to Jaehwan. Minhyun waves off Jonghyun’s concern.

 

He spends the rest of practice that day thinking about it. Sorry Sorry was never a complicated dance in the first place, and it doesn’t hurt that every movement has been etched into his memory before this. The steps come automatically, body working in synch with the mind as Minhyun successfully avoids undue attention from falling behind. He catches Jonghyun glancing at him once in a while, but that’s not important right now.

 

Where did he go wrong? What mistakes did he make? Thinking back, it probably started from the company evaluations, but it’s not like Minhyun could control his emotions at the moment. It’s not like he planned to cry and then mess up and cause this chain of events. If anything, Minhyun would prefer everything to go the same way until the very end where Minhyun could somehow make sure he received just little enough votes to miss the top eleven. Then Nu’est could promote together, make use of their newfound popularity. Instead, he’s caught in this mess where apparently Seongwoo feels that he’s been too cold to the other trainees. As if. Minhyun had great relationships with everyone, so he’s not sure where Seongwoo is getting this from.

 

Practice goes late into the night, until Hyunbin is barely stumbling through the steps with his eyes fluttering shut between beats. Daniel’s cough has started already, and Jaehwan still can’t keep up with the song unless it’s slowed down. It hasn’t been a great day of progress, and Minhyun can tell that Jonghyun is worried.

 

What happens if this performance isn’t as good as the one before? Minhyun’s immediate reaction is to balk since so much of his character (or what the viewers thought his character was) came from this performance, but… maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. After all, that might lessen his support to a point where he falls out of the top eleven. There’s no way to tell for sure, though, and Minhyun is dismissed back to the dorms with the only conclusion that can give him peace for now: Nu’est is the priority, and it always has been.

 

They trudge back to the dorms at around one in the morning, and everyone groans when they remember that they have to move their stuff from their old rooms to their new room. Minhyun resignedly climbs to the D rank floor and quickly organizes his suitcase. It’s not that hard, considering how he’d barely taken his things out in the first place. He knew this was coming, and it’s better to save energy if he can.

 

Minhyun is the first to arrive and their new room, and he claims his old bunk out of habit, plopping his stuff in the center and beginning to spread his blankets out. It’s been a long day, and he’s not interested in prolonging it more than he has to.

 

“Oh, Minhyun, you’re already here?”

 

Minhyun looks up as Jonghyun enters the room, a mask pulled down his chin as he balances several bags in his arms. Minhyun gets off his own bed and takes one of Jonghyun’s bags, automatically setting it on Jonghyun’s own bunk. Jonghyun doesn’t even blink, probably not too concerned with what bed he takes, and he heaves the rest of his stuff onto the top bed.

 

“You got here fast,” he comments, looking at Minhyun’s neatly done bed. “And you look like you’re ready to sleep already.”

 

Minhyun lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Tired,” he says simply. “I’ll probably try to sleep as soon as I wash up.” He doesn’t really mean sleep since Minhyun doubts he’ll be able to find rest that quickly. Mostly, he just needs time to himself without having to count musical beats and consider everything that’s happened so far and plan his next move. Even though the others will undoubtedly be noisy-

 

“-not paying attention. You okay?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Snapping to attention, Minhyun realizes that Jonghyun was still talking to him. Jonghyun looks at him with concern in his dark brown eyes, an all too familiar look that has Minhyun turning away guiltily.

 

“Are you okay?” Jonghyun repeats. “You seem out of it.”

 

“I’m fine,” Minhyun responds automatically. “Just tired.”

 

Jonghyun is quiet for a few seconds before saying, “You seemed out of it in practice today too.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Minhyun says. “I have a lot on my mind.”

 

“I bet,” Jonghyun says. He takes a seat across from Minhyun, observing him closely. Minhyun shifts a little under the attention. “That wasn’t really what I meant, though.”

 

“What did you mean?” Minhyun asks. He’s tired of people beating around the bush, saying vague things instead of what’s really on their mind. “Get to the point.”

 

“Minhyun, when’s the last time you talked with a trainee? Other than me,” Jonghyun adds quickly when Minhyun opens his mouth. “Or any of the other Nu’est members.”

 

That’s easy. “This afternoon, with Seongwoo in the bathroom,” Minhyun replies. It’s not a conversation he can easily forget, considering he’s been stewing on it for the entire day.

 

“And before that?”

 

“Uh…” To Minhyun’s surprise, he actually has to take time to think about that. He spoke with Daniel after reassignments and a little bit during the center battle, but those weren’t really conversations… more like Daniel one-sidedly blabbering to Minhyun.

 

“Have you really gotten to know any of the other trainees?”

 

“Of course!”Minhyun protests. “I’m close with Jae-”

 

He’s about to say Jaehwan’s name when an unsettling realization hits him. He hasn’t spoken directly to Jaehwan this entire time, even though they’d already been close enough to choose one another as their chosen trainee to debut with last time. Minhyun is stunned. This time, they might as well be strangers still.

 

Jonghyun is still looking at him expectantly, and Minhyun tries to find his voice. “… I’m working on it,” he says lamely. “I just need more time-”

 

“More time?” Jonghyun asks incredulously. “What more time? There isn’t any time, Minhyun, that’s why we’re here! You spent the entire practice today going through the motions. I can’t criticize you for your dance, but you didn’t say a word! When I asked you questions, you answered with a grunt at best and completely ignored me other times. Daniel and Jaehwan tried to talk to you several times, and you completely brushed them off. Poor Hyunbin came up and asked if we’d done something to piss you off because you were so nonresponsive. What’s wrong with you?”

 

Minhyun is frozen. “I… I didn’t realize I did any of that,” he says slowly.

 

“Of couse not. If you did, you wouldn’t have done it,” Jonghyun says. He’s running his hand through his hair now, exposing the forehead that made so many tease him about going bald before. It used to be a joke, something that Minhyun would bring up to see Jonghyun’s face flush red in embarrassment and to listen to him splutter some pathetic defense. Now, it’s a sign of Jonghyun’s disappointment. “What’s wrong, Minhyun? This isn’t like you. You’re so warm and cheerful normally, but now you act so cold.”

 

Cold? That word jolts Minhyun back to the bathroom that afternoon. It’s the same word that Seongwoo had spat at him before leaving, the word that Minhyun’s been puzzling over all day long. Now Jonghyun, the person who knows him best, the person who’s been by his side the entire time, the person who Minhyun is _doing this all for-_

It feels like failure. As if Minhyun doesn’t have enough of those already.

 

“I know this is really scary for all of us, but Minhyun-”

 

“It’s not that!” Minhyun blurts, desperate to try and wrestle the situation back under control. “I can handle myself with strangers, you know I can!”

 

“Then what is it?” Jonghyun asks. “Something is clearly wrong, you’ve been acting weird since the car ride here. I knew I should’ve asked about this sooner, but I thought it would resolve itself eventually. It clearly hasn’t, though, and I think we need to talk about it.”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Minhyun insists. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

 

“This isn’t about you doing better!” Jonghyun cries.

 

Minhyun has nothing to say to that, instead gaping at Jonghyun. It’s rare- no, nearly impossible to make Jonghyun lose his temper. The man has the patience of a saint, and the only time he ever raises his voice isn’t for himself (never for himself) but when he feels that something is going wrong for the team. Minhyun isn’t used to it being directed to him. Minhyun is good, always right, always doing what’s best for the team, and isn’t that what Jonghyun wants? Isn’t that what’ll make Jonghuyn happy.

 

“This isn’t about you doing better,” Jonghyun repeats when it’s clear that Minhyun has nothing to say. “It never was. Minhyun, you’re fine right now, right here. You have nothing to prove. Bu- but, I want you to be happy. Please. That’s all I ever wanted, for you to be happy. For you realize that you, us- our happiness is worth fighting for. And I don’t know if you’re doing that now. I- you look like you’ve given up. And I hate it. Please, Minhyun.”

 

Jonghyun is blinking tears away, furiously trying to keep them at bay, but he can’t hide how his voice cracks on Minhyun’s name. It’s all Minhyun can do to stop himself from launching at Jonghyun, torn between the desire to wrap around him and never let go or to throw himself at Jonghyun’s feet and beg for forgiveness.

 

“Minhyun, won’t you be happy? Won’t you share a little bit of the burden with me?” Jonghyun begs. It’s a losing battle against the tears, and Jonghyun scrubs them away with his sleeves as soon as they fall, his next words muffled by his arm. “I know- I know I haven’t been the best at leading, at talking, but I want to help, if I can.”

 

“Jonghyun,” Minhyun whispers helplessly, but nothing comes out but his name. How can he tell Jonghyun that the reason he’s acting so strangely is because he’s from the future? That he’s from a time when Minhyun can’t say he’s part of Nu’est, has to put another label in front of his name, and as if that weren’t enough, that Jonghyun isn’t by his side for any of that? How can he tell Jonghun that after years of suffering, years of struggling, years of giving up _every part of himself_ mean nothing in the end? How is supposed to say that?

 

How is he supposed to say that he’s betrayed him?

 

And that, Minhyun realizes, is at the crux of it all.

 

Without even realizing it, Minhyun has betrayed Nu’est- no, not Nu’est. He’s betrayed Aron, Dongho, Minki, and Jonghyun by leaving them behind for the successful future they could have only dreamed of, back in that sweaty practice room or in their cramped and dingy dorm. Maybe that’s what lies at the heart of this, this time travel or chance to fix things. Isn’t that what he’s here to do? Fix things?

 

But instead, all he’s done is ruin things and make Jonghyun cry.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Minhyun,” Jonghyun pleads, desperation in every word. “Let me help.”

 

“I- I would,” Minhyun says helplessly. “But right now- I can’t.”

 

“Why not?” Jonghyun demands. “What is there that we haven’t shared for the past five years? What’s so terrible that you can’t tell me now? Huh?”

 

Just then, the door slides open. Minhyun and Jonghyun whip their heads towards the door at the sound of disgruntled muttering and arguing. Someone (sounding like Jaehwan) whisper-yells, “You idiot!” followed by the sound of a slap and a grunt. After what sounds like some scuffling, Hyunbin is shoved through the door, nearly tripping over his own feet.

 

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, not looking up from the floor.

 

“Ah… sorry to interrupt your conversation,” he begins, every word stilted and apologetic. “But it’s really late- or is it early? And the hyungs want to sleep, so…”

 

“That’s fine,” Jonghyun says immediately. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s sniffing, but otherwise, Jonghyun shows no sign that he was crying previously. “I’m sorry for making everyone wait. We should all get some rest, it’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

 

He sweeps out to help the other boys carry their things in, but the look he shoots Minhyun makes it clear that their conversation isn’t over.

 

The other team members settle in after much grumbling and too much yelling for the late hour, Daniel losing several intense rounds of rock, paper, scissors to take the bunk nearest the camera. Hyunbin is forced to take the floor, a situation he cheerfully embraces since, “my legs wouldn’t fit on the bunk anyway.”

 

Like that, their first night as Sorry Sorry Team 2 passes, and when everyone else has fallen asleep and Daniel’s teeth grinding fills the room, Minhyun is left in the dark, wondering where everything went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write, lol. A lot of it came from the post-p101 interview where Seongwoo admitted that though he acted confident and cocky, he was actually very lonely at the beginning. I think his desperation for debut also really started to show as the season went on, especially in the finale when he looked like he would pass out from anxiety with every rank, but I thought it'd be interesting if we escalated that behavior in a case where its triggered from seeing Minhyun supposedly act irrationally when he, as an already debuted idol, is supposed to know how to play the game. I imagine Seongwoo would also worry about how Minhyun's actions would reflect on himself which leads to the bathroom confrontation, so hopefully that all came across.


	5. Episode 4.5

4.5

 

Morning doesn’t bring any answers, and Minhyun is left helplessly staring after the rest of his team as they squabble over who has to drag Hyunbin from his bed, who gets to use the bathroom first, and exactly who’s fault it is that they’re almost late. He wants to join them and throw himself between Jaehwan and Hyunbin, ruffling the younger’s hair while hurrying them all out the door. He wants to yell at them for making a mess out of their formerly clean room and jokingly hit Daniel over the head when he whines about, “not having time to clean.” He wants to laugh at Seongwoo’s exaggerated acting and throw an arm around Jonghyun as he watches their practice videos for the umpteenth time.

 

But he can’t.

 

The memory of last night’s argument is still a fresh wound, and he can tell the other members are carefully avoiding him as they go about their morning rituals. On the surface, it doesn’t seem like anything is wrong, but Minhyun can’t catch anyone’s eye even through the bustle. He feels vaguely sick, like a thousand worms squirming in his gut, simultaneously weighing him down and pushing him to do something.

 

He manages to catch Jonghyun before they rush to the van, one hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hey,” he says as quietly as he can manage, surprised when his voice comes out scratchy and hoarse. “About last night-”

 

“Is your voice okay? What’s wrong with it?” Jonghyun asks. He looks torn between worry and- well, actually just worry because no matter how hard Jonghyun tries to appear tougher than he really is, he’s soft for his members.

 

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Minhyun replies. He immediately regrets it when he sees the guilt that crosses Jonghyun’s face and hurries to say, “It’s not your fault, I couldn’t fall asleep. I was thinking, and… if there’s time today, I want to talk to you. All of you. To explain.”

 

He hates how he’s talking in jerky and stilted sentences like he can’t properly string the phrases together. It’s a blessing that he doesn’t stutter, and he falls into nervous silence as he waits for Jonghyun to respond.

 

“Of course,” Jonghyun says. He reaches out and removes Minhyun’s hand from his shoulder but doesn’t let it go, instead choosing to intertwine their fingers together. His hand is a warm comfort, and Minhyun relaxes into that familiar touch. “I didn’t mean to push you like that last night either, so I’m sorry about that too. Just let us know when, and we can talk.”

 

Minhyun nods, almost too relieved to say anything. But there’s an important point he needs to say before, so everyone knows how to act today.

 

“Preferably a time with no cameras?” The end of what was supposed to be a statement lifts into a question instead. “Please? It’s important.”

 

Jonghyun glances to the side nervously, searching for the cameras that track their every movement. It’s not easy to find a time without the cameras because even though hardly anything makes it to the final cut, the cameras are always monitoring them.

 

“We’ll try,” he says. “I don’t know if-”

 

“We have to,” Minhyun quietly states. “This isn’t something I can say in front of them.”

 

Jonghyun swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously against his neck. “Okay,” he confirms. “Okay.”

 

Relieved, Minhyun tries to drop Jonghyun’s hand and wait for Jonghyun to get into the van, but Jonghyun simply grips tighter and pulls him aboard behind him. Minhyun blinks in surprise.

 

“What’re you doing?”

 

“We’re going to filming, of course,” Jonghyun states matter-of-factly. He takes a seat in the back corner, tugging Minhyun to sit next to him in the middle. The other boys pile in while groaning and complaining playfully, Jaehwan collapsing next to Minhyun because Hyunbin’s legs needed more space, apparently. Jonghyun is still holding his hand.

 

Jonghyun glances at their clasped hands, a faint pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “I mean, if you don’t want me too…” he trails off, beginning to pull away.

 

Panic hits Minhyun, and he hurriedly grips Jonghyun’s hand even tighter, pulling it closer to his chest. “No! No, it’s fine,” he says, embarrassed when he meets Jonghyun’s eyes. They both look away at the same, and Minhyun clears his throat. “I thought you were mad at me,” he confesses. “So I didn’t think…”

 

“I’m not mad at you,” Jonghyun says, eyes softening. “I’m worried, and that affected how I acted last night, but I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.”

 

“You might be,” Minhyun says miserably, huddling into his coat. “Later.”

 

Jonghyun pauses a little at that, a determined expression eventually crossing his face, and he grips Minhyn’s hand even tighter. “No,” he says. “I won’t.”

 

The moment is ruined when Jaehwan snorts and shifts so that his face is pressed against the window. “Gross,” comes his muffled comment. “Take your mushiness somewhere else, it’s too early for that amount of sugar.”

 

Jonghyun lets out an amused huff while Minhyun gapes. He wouldn’t blink an eye at Jaehwan’s teasing if this were the future, but considering the way Minhyun’s acted recently, he’s surprised that Jaehwan feels comfortable enough to invoke his dry humor. It must be Jonghyun, he realizes, glancing over and seeing Jonghyun’s eyes crinkle from amusement. He never ceases to surprise Minhyun with his neverending warmth and kindness, no matter how he’s personally feeling. He could learn a lot from Jonghyun, Minhyun thinks, watching Jonghyun as he slowly begins to doze off, head dropping to Minhyun’s shoulder. In fact, he should.

 

Minhyun makes an effort to engage the rest of the group more during practice. He encourages Jaehwan when he struggles with the timing and compliments Seongwoo on his solo popping dance break. He laughs when Daniel fails at a breakdancing move during one of their rest periods, and he makes sure to massage Hyunbin’s shoulders as he sees the younger’s confidence decreasing the longer practice goes on.

 

He can tell the rest of them notice. It shows in the way that Daniel bounces over and chatters away, pulling Minhyun to formally meet the rest of the MMO trainees during lunch. Hyunbin keeps calling him during practice, and he and Jonghyun take turns patiently helping the model balance during the harder dance moves. Jaehwan unleashes his infamous laughter for the first time after he and Hyunbin bump into each other in the middle of a serious runthrough, leading to Hyunbin stumbling into Daniel who flails and throws his arm around Seongwoo, the two of them landing on top of one another in a suspicious position.

 

Dead silence rings out in the studio until Jaehwan bursts into that familiar cackle, leading to everyone laughing either out of incredulity at the situation or bemusement at the unexpected laugh from the normally serious main vocal. For their part, Daniel and Seongwoo don’t seem to mind, instead teasingly leaning in closer to one another while poor Hyunbin screeches like someone is torturing him. They pull away eventually, getting to their feet laughing and demonstrate an entirely unnecessary amount of skinship that the cameras eat up.

 

Jonghyun is bent over laughing, his face red and sweaty from dance practice. It’s a welcome breather from the stress lines that gradually started growing since Hyubin revealed that he had no prior dance experience whatsoever and continued struggling to remember the steps long after everyone else had started working on finessing their movements. Minhyun smiles at the sight. It reminds him of when they- when Nu’est would gang up on Jonghyun during interviews, teasing him about his gaming addiction and enjoying his spluttered defense. It seems like ages ago that Nu’est was doing all the things debuted idols should be doing: going on music shows, filming interviews, holding their own V lives…

 

None of that helped Nu’est gain popularity, but it was fun. It was good, being together like that, laughing like that, chasing after their dreams like that, and watching Jonghyun now, Minhyun believes that it can be good again.

 

“Ah! Minhyun hyung is smiling!” Hyunbin says suddenly, one arm raised and pointing at Minhyun.

 

“Oh, is he really?” Daniel swoops in, shoving his face dangerously close to Minhyun’s, face breaking into that signature puppy smile with his eyes shut. “He is! Wow, the stone face finally shows his feelings!”

 

Minhyun shoves him away, feeling his face heat up. “I’m allowed to smile, what’s wrong with me smiling?” he asks defensively. He tries in vain to cover his cheeks with his sleeves, but he can feel the warmth through his sleeves which is a sure sign of failure.

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jaehwan chimes in, coming to sit beside Minhyun. He hands him one of the two water bottles he’s carrying, cracking open the other one and taking a long sip, sighing in relief when he’s done. “We’re not used to seeing it is all. You should smile more often, makes you look better.”

 

“Yeah!” Hyunbin adds enthusiastically. “You’re so handsome when you smile, hyung! I mean, not that you’re not handsome usually, but you’re extra handsome when you do smile!”

 

Jonghyun’s raspy chuckles sound by Minhyun’s ear. “That he is,” he agrees, collapsing onto Minhyun’s back from behind. “I missed seeing his smile.”

 

“Isn’t this too much?” Minhyun complains. Daniel seems to get an idea from Jonghyun’s backhug, and he grabs Seongwoo as he trots to Minhyun’s side of room. Without any warning,  he plops himself into Minhyun’s lap and pulls Seongwoo on top of him with an “oomph.” Hyunbin clearly gets the idea as he scrambles over and throws himself over everyone like a starfish blanket, eliciting a groan from Seongwoo and a yelp as he complains that Hyunbin is crushing his ribs. Jaehwan only stares at them with a deadpan expression before heaving a deep sigh, casually leaning up against Minhyun’s side and throwing his legs over Hyunbin’s back. Just like that, they’re all tangled together in one huge pile.

 

“What is this?” Minhyun asks, failing to stifle his grin as it stretches across his face. “What’s gotten into all of you, since when have you been so touchy?”

 

“Since forever.” Daniel’s voice somehow drifts to Minhyun’s ears from where his head is buried somewhere by Seongwoo’s stomach, the Busan accent heavy. Minhyun can hear the laughter in his voice, clear as day, even though his face has completely disappeared from view. “You just didn’t notice because you were too busy being the brooding anti-hero of a drama.”

 

Minhyun opens his mouth to protest, but he can feel Jonghyun shaking with laughter against his back.

 

“Brooding anti-hero-” Jonghyun wheezes, breath coming out in hot little gasps against Minhyun’s neck. “That’s the most accurate description I’ve heard, oh, that’s too funny.”

 

“It is, right?” Daniel sounds disproportionately pleased with himself. “I’m a pretty funny guy-”

 

“That statement was only accurate up until the “pretty” part,” Seongwoo interjects. His lips curl upward into a familiar cocky smirk, a sign that Minhyun recognizes as preluding anytime Seongwoo puts someone else down while complimenting himself. “The only pretty and funny one here is me. If you disagree, go ask to be reborn instead.”

 

Everyone loses it at that, the puppy pile turning into a mess of shaking limbs as they laugh and laugh and laugh. Minhyun finally gives in and lets himself collapse into his teammates. He can feel Hyunbin’s hair tickling his nose, and Jaehwan’s hand was somehow wound itself through Minhyun’s own hair, gently stroking and petting alternatively. He vaguely recognizes that this situation reminds him of how he left Nu’est, all wrapped up in one another on a sofa the night that everything was decided. He expects to feel some sort of pain, some self-hatred at the fact that he’s forgotten all of that already, but instead, Minhyun feels warm. The ache that accompanies any thought of Nu’est doesn’t go away (it never does), but it’s softened somewhat by the bodies surrounding him.

 

It’s nice.

 

He can feel someone’s gaze resting on him, and when Minhyun turns his head, he sees Seongwoo staring at him with a serious expression at odds with everyone else in the room. There’s still a bit of hostility in his eyes, a remnant from their bathroom confrontation yesterday, but Minhyun is starting to understand, just a little bit, why Seongwoo lashed out like that.

 

For someone who’s so extraordinarily talented in every aspect of the idol business, Seongwoo’s future and his past are so extraordinarily unsure. It took until the last nights in the dorms for Seongwoo to confess, hushed and strained at an ungodly hour in the early morning, that he was terrified of what would happen if he didn’t debut. The jokester had relayed all his feelings, how he had felt so lonely at the beginning of filming and so paranoid about his every action even as he presented himself as a cocky and confident character. It was, Seongwoo had said with a suspiciously thick voice, thanks to Sorry Sorry Team 2 that he felt like he had a chance to fulfill his dreams, a chance to make every wish of his come true.

 

For Seongwoo, who knew he was skilled enough to make it yet unsure if he was compelling enough to draw the one pick votes, it must have been terrifying to see a supposed veteran explode with emotion. He must’ve seen himself in Minhyun, seen how Minhyun’s actions could harm his own chances of debuting. Even more, as the only trainee from Fantagio and as someone who had trained on his own for so many years, he must’ve been jealous of Minhyun’s companionship with the rest of Nu’est yet confused by his overprotectiveness.

 

Now, Minhyun offers him a gentle smile, trying to convey “I’m okay now, thanks. You can trust me,” with just his expression. Some part of it must come across, because Seongwoo’s face softens, and he nods the tiniest bit before going to tickle Daniel to the pink haired boy’s chagrin.

 

Part of Minhyun realizes that this is all being filmed, that this is intimacy is going to be exposed to everyone in Korea who deigns to watch. He should be worrying about how he’ll come across, how they’ll manipulate his screentime and storyline to either make viewers love or hate him. Instead, Minhyun closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy this. It might not be genuinely private, and there are still so many problems to talk about and work through, but for now? It’s enough.

 

Laughing and messing around is all fun and games until they have to perform in front of the trainers. They get back to practicing pretty quickly with lightened hearts, but all the jokes can’t make up for the fact that Jaehwan and Hyunbin are seriously behind where they should be.

 

It’s only until they’re standing in front of the trainers, faces dark with displeasure, that Minhyun realizes exactly how badly he messed up.

 

“Let’s have just Hyunbin and Jaehwan,” Teacher Jaesung says, face failing to hide his displeasure. Minhyun has to hide a wince and knows he doesn’t succeed when Jaesung’s eyes slid over to him.

 

It goes just as badly as it does the first time. Jaehwan remembers all the general steps, but his movements are stiff and badly controlled. Hyunbin is, to put it frankly, a disaster, and big enough of one that all the members sitting at the side have to look away out of embarrassment. When the music grinds to a halt, Hyunbin and Jaehwan are left standing in the middle of the floor, heads lowered.

 

Minhyun feels terrible because it shouldn’t be like this. There were enough problems the first time around, and now that Minhyun already knows what’s going to happen, shouldn’t he have tried to do something to stop it? Isn’t that what he promised himself when he saw Hyunbin at the company performances? If Minhyun was too focused on how to fix Nu’est the past few days, he’s realizing exactly how incompetent he is today. Making everyone worried about him, not lifting a finger to help Hyunbin and Jaehwan despite knowing what’s going to happen- it’s enough to make him sick.

 

“Hey. Who was leader of this time?” Jaesung asks.

 

Minhyun’s head immediately snaps toward Jonghyun who swallows nervously and raises his hand. Minhyun wants to scream, tell him to lower it, say that it isn’t Jonghyun’s fault, but his. Instead, he watches Jonghyun stand up and get scolded by the trainer, just as harsh as he remembers it or even harsher, and Minhyun feels like trash.

 

Objectively, he knows that this will help. This is one of the establishing character moments that will lead to Jonghyun being hailed as the Nation’s Leader, an angel with endless patience and kindness to the point where groups don’t even need to discuss who’s going to lead them. Objectively, this will be one of the things that shoot Nu’est to fame and brings them legions of new fans, and they’ll all be happier for this. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but in the moment, Minhyun can’t stop thinking about how Jonghyun had to suffer like this only to be spit on in the end.

 

Fourteenth. Basically a slap in the face.

 

They trudge back to their practice rooms, their gloomy silence a stark contrast to the laughter only hours before. There’s no room for joking now, even as Seongwoo opens his mouth to say something, then closes it after reading the atmosphere.

 

When they get back, Jonghyun quietly requests the cameras give them a moment. The VJs look at each other, clearly unsure about what they’re supposed to do. Ideally, they’d film this breakdown and make it a huge part of the episode, but when Jonghyun miserably swipes at his face with his sleeves, they agree to give them a few minutes and file out as quickly as they can.

 

They sit in a circle on the ground, and Hyunbin looks like he’s about to cry. Jonghyun has somehow managed to take care of his tears, and now he’s looking straight ahead with red eyes that everyone ignores. Jaehwan looks less ashamed than Hyunbin, but his stiff posture tells Minhyun that he still feels humiliated and ashamed. Daniel and Seongwoo are angled towards one another, a tight expression on both their faces.

 

At that moment, watching them all, Minhyun knows that it’s now or never.

 

He takes a deep breath. He’s thought about this, about what he’s going to say. He should probably try to lessen the shock by saying something to preface it, maybe a, “I swear I’m not crazy,” or, “I know this sounds crazy, but-” and honestly, he hasn’t really thought past that. He’s CEO Hwang, though, he knows he can figure it out.

 

All that confidence disappears when he opens his mouth and says, “I’m sorry.”

 

Everyone looks at him, confusion written all over.

 

“Why?” Daniel asks, Jaehwan making a noise of confused agreement.

 

“B-because…” Minhyun stutters over his words while the rest look at him with expressions that vary from worry to sympathy to whatever Seongwoo’s face is doing. The man is impossible to read when he tries.

 

Minhyun takes a deep breath and tries again. “I shouldn’t have let Jonghyun get yelled at like that,” he mumbles, casting his eyes to the ground. “I should’ve done something about it.”

 

“What were you going to do?” Jaehwan asks logically, eyebrows pinched together. “I mean, it’s not like you’re the leader.”

 

Minhyun thinks he’s the only one who catches Jonghyun’s minute flinch until Hyunbin leans over and places one hand on his knee reassuringly.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Jonghyun says. “He was right, I should’ve done more-”

 

“No, I should’ve done more!”

 

In any other time, Minhyun would take more time to break the news and act more gently instead of randomly butting in like a crazy person, but there is no time. The rest are looking at him now, confusion written plainly across their faces, and Minyun braces himself.

 

“This responsibility should solely be on my shoulders,” he says firmly. “No one should be blamed but me,”

 

“What’re you talking about?” Daniel asks. “I don’t get it.”

 

“Minhyun,” Jonghyun says, face unreadable. “Does this have to do with whatever you said you couldn’t mention before? And why you’ve been acting this way?”

 

Minhyun chuckles bitterly. “As expected, you know me too well,” he murmurs.

 

All eyes are on him, and Minhyun knows that the camera crew will be back any second. He has no choice but to do this now.

 

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he starts. “But I swear it’s the truth, so please hear me out.”

 

“We are,” Jonghyun says patiently. “You just have to tell us.”

 

“I’m from the future.”

 

… wow, that definitely sounds crazier out loud than it did in his head.

 

Jaehwan breaks the silence first. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks incredulously, scratching his head with one hand. “Did you really just say you’re from the future?”

 

“I know it seems like I’m joking, but I’m not,” Minhyun says, as stably as he can. “Please, trust me on this.”

 

“Let’s say we believe you,” Seongwoo interrupts, eyes narrowed. “Explain some more, because I don’t think I’m getting the full picture.”

 

“I don’t understand it all either,” Minhyun replies helplessly. “I woke up on the first day of filming, but the last thing I remember is going to sleep after the finale. I went through this entire thing, each and every day already. I know what happens, what teams everyone chooses, who gets eliminated when, and how everything is going to end. I know because I was there.”

 

“Are you crazy?” Jaehwan asks in disbelief. “I think you must be too stressed because-”

 

“-this makes no sense, I know, but it’s true and you have to believe me,” Minhyun pleads. “That’s the reason why I’ve been acting so weird, because it’s strange seeing you all here and doing this all again. That’s why I’ve been so moody and weird and, and everything!”

 

“What is happening,” Daniel moans, clutching at his head. “I don’t get what’s going on there’s no proof-”

 

“You want proof?” Minhyun interrupts, pulse quickening. “I’ll can tell you each of the rankings all of us get in the live evaluations within our team, who places in the top eleven during the first eliminations- all of it. I can tell you anything.”

 

“Then tell us,” Seongwoo says, eyes bright and gleaming. “You said you came from the finale, right? So you should tell us who makes it at the end, who the top twenty two are- you should tell us who wins.”

 

Minhyun is about to take him up on that challenge, memories still fresh from that night when something stops him. Wait. He realizes all of a sudden that it’s probably not the best idea to tell them what happens. He knows that things change based off of his own actions, and while there haven’t been any major changes so far, who knows what could happen if Minhyun reveals that half of the people here make it to the top eleven, one of them being first at that? He can’t tell them exactly what happens because they’ll act differently based off of that knowledge, and then they might ruin everything.

 

“Tell us,” Seongwoo is still encouraging. “That way we can directly compare to see if he’s telling the truth or not-”

 

“I can’t,” Minhyun says reluctantly. “I mean, I could, but I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

 

“Why not?” Seongwoo challenges. “You say you’re from the future, back it up with some evidence. Or what, are you lying? Gone crazy from all the stress?”

 

“That’s not it! Some things have already changed, and I don’t know how things are going to turn out! It’s too unpredictable to tell you guys-”

 

“Oh, so you’re just giving yourself a safety net so we can’t verify anything. Real convincing there, I totally believe you now-”

 

“If you would just listen to me-”

 

“Why should I listen when you’re-”

 

“Enough!”

 

The room falls silent at Jonghyun’s outburst, the leader panting a little from where he’s leapt to his feet. He glares at them all without exception, gaze only softening when it lands on Hyunbin who’s long limbs are pulled up close to his torso like a small child. Minhyun swallows guiltily, settling back down from his haunches and lowering his head. He hates it when Jonghyun’s mad.

 

“Minhyun, you have to admit that sounds unbelievable,” Jonghyun starts, and Minhyn’s heart plummets. If Jonghyun doesn’t believe him, who is?

 

“Like I said,” Seongwoo grumbles, shutting up once Jonghyun shoots him an unimpressed look.

 

“But that’s no reason to attack him like that, Seongwoo,” he continues icily. “Minhyun, can you tell us a little more? What makes you think you- time traveled?” He says the last phrase hesitantly, like he can’t believe what’s coming out of his own mouth.

 

“I can only tell you what I know,” Minhyun says. “I was back in the Nu’est dorms after the finale and went to sleep. When I woke up, I was back for the first day of filming.”

 

“The dorms,” Jonghyun says, recognition dawning on his face. “That morning, when you didn’t know what was going on-”

 

“That was because it’d all already ended for me,” Minhyun confirms. “I was disoriented.”

 

“And in the car, when you asked if this was a dream and asked me to slap you,” Jonghyun recalls. “During the company evaluation-”

 

“I’d heard Kahi give that speech before,” Minhyun says, flushing at the memory. “I didn’t cry the first time it happened, so I think I just got overwhelmed this time, but-”

 

“That… sort of makes sense,” Jonghyun admits. “You were acting really strange the entire time, but I thought it was just stress.”

 

“Well, yes, stress,” Minhyun says. “But mostly from the time travel, not because of the actual program.”

 

“So the reason you feel sorry today is-”

 

“I knew Hyunbin and Jaehwan needed more practice than the rest of us, but I ignored it. You got scolded last time too. I should’ve taken more responsibility and done what I could to prevent it from happening.”

 

“Why are you telling us this?” Jaehwan asks suddenly. His hands are clasped around his knees, and he rocks back and forth slightly while he looks at Minhyun seriously. “What makes you think that telling us you time traveled is a good idea at all?”

 

Minhyun spreads his hands helplessly. He can only be honest now. “You guys are the best friends I make on this program,” he says quietly. If someone dropped a pin now, it would echo through the dead silence that the room has fallen into. “If I can’t trust you guys to believe me, I can’t trust anyone. I didn’t want to keep it from you any longer. I’m sorry.”

 

He dips his head in apology and waits. He can’t see their faces anymore, can’t even hear the slightest hint of movement. He’s laid all his cards on the table, and now he has to wait for judgment. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous, not even standing on that stage for hours while waiting for his name to be called.

 

“I believe him.”

 

Minhyun jerks his head up at that, eyes wide when he sees who first spoke. Daniel sheepishly scratches the back of his head, blond roots shifting at the movement. His eyes are crinkled into an embarrassed grin, and he shrugs a little under the attention.

 

“There’s no reason for him to lie to us about something like this,” he points out. “And I think Minhyun hyung has probably suffered the most if he’s telling the truth, right? Besides, it’s pretty cool to think about, like a drama, don’t you think?” He says the last part with a roguish wink at the end to punctuate, and everyone groans at the cheesiness. 

 

“I believe him too,” Hyunbin pipes up. He fiddles with his fingers and nervously glances over his shoulder, reminding Minhyun that the camera crew is due back in any second now. “Uh. I think Minhyun hyung is a good person, and he probably wouldn’t lie like that. Besides, Jonghyun hyung said some things to back it up too, so… yeah, I believe him.”

 

“Me too,” Jonghyun says firmly. “I’ve known Minhyun for eight years. This isn’t something that he would joke about, not at a time like this.”

 

Minhyun lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and glances at the only two members not to say something. Jaehwan is chewing at his nails with a contemplative expression on his face, and Seongwoo is still unreadable.

 

“What about you two?” he asks. “Do you believe me?”

 

“I think I need some more time,” Jaehwan says finally. “But… I don’t think I can count it out.”

 

“Okay,” Minhyun says, relieved. “That means a lot to me, more than you know, probably.”

 

“We’re close?” Jaehwan asks, ever sharp. “In the- in the future that you come from?”

 

Minhyun chuckles. “Yeah. The closest. I said the trainee I want to debut with the most is you. You said the same thing to me.”

 

Jaehwan blinks. “Oh. That- that’s something.”

 

“Yeah,” Minhyun breathes. “It is.”

 

“And you, Seongwoo?” Daniel asks. He playfully nudges the frozen man next to him, shooting him a bright grin. “Come on, jump on the bandwagon, won’t you? It’s a train that will lead you to happy thoughts and good memories, I promise.”

 

Seongwoo doesn’t say a word, expression still dark, and everyone anxiously waits for him to say something, Minhyun most of all. Seongwoo is an integral part of the show, the moodmaker who attracted attention no matter where he went. In fact, Minhyun can’t imagine any iteration of Wanna One without Seongwoo in it, and he feels a bead of sweat trickle down his back despite the fact that they haven’t practiced for a while.

 

“Hey,” Seongwoo says finally.

 

Minhyun gulps and leans in. The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it, and he senses everyone else thrumming with nerves. If Seongwoo doesn’t accept this, doesn’t believe Minhyun, he doesn’t know how they’re going to present the cohesive and legendary performance they did the first time. He needs Seongwoo to believe him.

 

“You guys…” Seongwoo says seriously. “… I just thought of the best team name ever.”

 

Everyone gapes, Daniel falling over in exaggerated shock. Seongwoo continues blithely on, as if he hasn’t noticed anything. “What do you think about the ‘Sorry Sorry Train’?” he asks, an intense expression contorting his handsome face. “The reasoning behind it is that once you board this train, you can’t get off because we’re too good. And addicting. We’re addicting too. We’re sorry about it, but not really. We can even do little train motions on stage, you know, for the cuteness fact.” He does the little chugging motions. At that, Daniel bursts into laughter along with Jaehwan and Hyunbin, Jonghyun’s cute laughs joining the fray. Minhyun remembers dying of embarrassment last time, but Seongwoo looks inordinately proud of himself for his idea.

 

“Wait, what about the whole time travel thing?” he blurts. “Do you believe me?”

 

“Excuse me, that’s not important right now,” Seongwoo says, pulling an offended face. “What’s important is that you all see the brilliance behind my stage name.”

 

“It’s amazing!” Daniel cries. He’s rolling on the floor now, ever the Ong supporter, and Seongwoo smirks, pleased at the reaction. “Oh, we have to use that name, please, there’s nothing better than that.”

 

“I like it, it’s funny,” Jonghyun adds, chuckles dying down. “Ah, that was really unexpected, so funny.”

 

“Wait,” Minhyun repeats, somehow feeling like he’s lost the spotlight. “Time travel? Me, from the future? Remember that?”

 

“Oh, that,” Seongwoo flips a hand dismissively in Minhyun’s direction. “Yeah, sure, I’ll believe you as long as what you say actually matches up to what happens. And you actually act like you want to be here. Otherwise, I’m totally cool with it.”

 

“Uh… thanks,” Minhyun says, stunned. “I can tell you what order we rank in for the Sorry Sorry performance, is that okay?”

 

“Fine by me. Anyway, we should get back to the original topic. I think Daniel should say it because-”

 

“You’re totally biased towards Daniel! Everyone can tell that if you pick it’s going to be him!”

 

“No, it’s because of his charming Busan accent that will make all the girls go “squee!!!” and probably some guys too, so don’t accuse me like this-“

 

“Idiot, you two are inseparable, you’ve known each other for like, a week?”

 

“I just came to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now-”

 

The cameraman pokes his head back in the room, looking taken aback by the chaos. He was probably expecting some tears, some dramatic shouts, a somber atmosphere. To be fair, all of that did happen, but apparently everyone’s over it already. Minhyun shakes his head. He doesn’t know how it happened, but he laughs and gestures for the cameraman to come in.

 

While the camera crew sets up again and the boys wrestle one another, Jonghyun creeps to Minhyun’s side.

 

“The reason why you came back…” he says, lips barely moving. “Is it because you have to fix something?”

 

Minhyun sucks in a breath through his nose. Jonghyun was always more observant than people gave him credit for, and he knows Minhyun too well for him to cover this up.

 

“Yes,” he whispers.

 

“That something… is it Nu’est?”

 

Minhyun stares at him helplessly, and Jonghyun shakes his head. “Never mind, you don’t have to say it. That answer tells me enough.”

 

 _I’m sorry_ , Minhyun thinks, watching Jonghyun head back into the chaos. _I’m sorry, but this is all still for you._

 

They get back to practice after Minhyun discreetly whispers their ranks to them as he remembers it: Hyunbin first, to everyone’s shock and Seongwoo’s good-natured ribbing, himself second, Seongwoo third, Jaehwan fourth, Jonghyun fifth, and Daniel last. He doesn’t miss the disappointment on Daniel’s face and rubs his shoulders encouragingly, thinking about how the kid who was the only one to lose on his first live evaluation eventually becomes first out of all 101 trainees.

 

Hyunbin can’t see how he becomes number one with the level he’s currently at, and with Minhyun helpless to explain that he somehow pulled that number and then got crucified by the netizens, concludes that he must have worked really hard to improve. He becomes so eager to learn that when Jonghyun’s not available, he bugs Minhyun, and when Minhyun isn’t available, he bugs Daniel. When Daniel’s not available, he bugs Seongwoo, and when Seongwoo isn’t available… well, he offers to help Jaehwan and is rewarded by a swift kick to his behind.

 

Jonghyun leads them with the patience of a saint, using his experience to guide them when the team loses focus and goes out to get water for everyone periodically, reminding them not to fall ill. Minhyun makes a mental note to tell everyone to talk about how great Jonghyun is in their interviews; he can still be an angel leader without sacrificing Hyunbin.

 

Just like that, their practice time becomes shorter and shorter, and when the day of the performance comes, his team is shaped more or less like he remembers it. There are some differences, what with how Hyunbin teases the older members about how he can dance better than them, the way that Jonghyun looks more at ease and laughs with Seongwoo, even hitting the other dancer once. They’d spent the night in one of the vocal rooms once, getting back to the dorms later than Minhyun ever remembered, sharing their dreams and fears in hushed voices.

 

Maybe it’s a side effect of Minhyun telling them that they’ll be close in the future, but they don’t hide anything from one another, and Minhyun is shocked when he realizes that he knows some things about them that he didn’t the first time around. It’s good, though, and Minhyun finds himself relaxing into the familiar bonds that feel fresh and new after a period of cutting himself off from them.

 

It happens when they’re all delirious with tiredness, having practiced until the early hours of the morning, and then chatting time away in their rooms. Their performance is tomorrow, and everyone tries to disseminate the nervous energy buzzing in the room by talking about everything and nothing. Minhyun is lying in his bed, trying to muffle his giggles as Daniel goes on an extended spiel about his favorite cats, determinedly trying not to think about the mess Daniel gets himself in the future, when Seongwoo interrupts Daniel’s rant to say:

 

“Minhyun… you know you can trust us now, right?”

 

Minhyun is glad his surprise doesn’t show on his face, and he evenly replies, “Of course. That’s why I told you all in the first place.”

 

“Well, if you know,” Seongwoo forges on, words falling onto the soft sound of rhythmic inhales and exhales. “Then you should also know you don’t have to worry so much on your own now. You can count on us, so don’t carry the burden by yourself, okay? We’ll help as much as we can.”

 

Suddenly, Minhyun’s throat is too tight and his eyes are burning. He squeezes them shut in a valiant attempt to stop the tears, but it doesn’t work. He’s probably cried more in these past few weeks than he has in his entire life, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to regret it like he used to.

 

“I know,” he says, and he’s thankful when no one comments on his oddly choked voice. “Thank you.”

 

Seongwoo huffs, and Minhyun hears his bed creaking as Seongwoo presumably turns over. “That applied regardless of if the time travel is true or not, by the way! Right, Jaehwan?”

 

“Shut _up,_ I want to sleep!”

 

The room chuckles at Jaehwan’s response, laughter quickly fading as exhaustion settles in. Before long, the dorm is filled with soft snores (Jonghyun, Seongwoo) and loud snores (Hyunbin, Jaehwan) and teeth grinding (thank you, Daniel). The past nights have been terrible for Minhyun’s sleep schedule, and their performance is coming up tomorrow. He should be nervous, wondering if everything will turn out alright, like all the previous nights before for lesser events. This time, though, Minhyun drops off to sleep with a smile on his face and a peaceful heart.

 

Everything will be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you try to make one chapter equal one episode of the show but realize there's too much happening to fully cover in one chapter: Justice League fluff!!!


	6. Episode 5

5

 

They kill their performance.

 

Of course they do, how could they do anything else? When they take the stage, the cheers they receive are as deafening as the ones for the so-called Avengers team, and Minhyun can see the stunned expressions on his teammates’ faces. He wants to tell them that this is nothing compared to the reception they’ll receive later, but he swallows his words and lets them enjoy their first taste of fame.

 

As soon as they take their places on stage and the lights dim, Minhyun settles. He’s always felt comfortable on stage, letting the cheers and screams wash over him like a cloak, and there’s a certain heady power that comes with knowing that he’s the one throwing them into this frenzy. It’s times like this that make Minhyun realize he could never be anything but an idol. He loves the stage too much to do anything else.

 

The performances pass in a blur, and by the time they take their seats, Minhyun is the only calm one amidst a sea of nerves. He places one hand reassuringly on Hyunbin’s knee and looks over at the opposing team dressed in red.

 

Seonho is there, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he waits for their results. Minhyun’s eyes soften at the sight, and he regrets not being able to talk to the younger one more when the two teams were practicing. He had his own issues to work out then, but Minhyun vows to get closer to Seonho in the next few rounds.

 

He’s thrown out of his thoughts when the countdown begins, everyone letting out dismayed exclamations. Minhyun clasps his hands in front and stares intensely at the screen. He doesn’t care too much about the live results; no, what he cares more about is if the live voting order will still be right. The rest of his team might say they believe him for now, but Minhyun knows that they won’t take him seriously until they have proof, and this moment is crucial for that.

 

As the rankings start appearing, Minhyun glances over at each of his teammates faces. The numbers don’t mean anything at the moment since they’ll only be able to tell what order they rank at the end, but he knows how nerve-wracking it is to wait for a faceless audience to determine your worth.

 

When it’s time for Daniel’s score to appear, Minhyn leans over the rest of his teammates slightly and says to Seonho, “You did really well,” projecting his voice so it carries across the little comments perforating the room.

 

Seonho blinks at him before breaking into an excited and slightly nervous smile, “Thanks,” he says respectively before bouncing his knees and squirming a bit. “Ah, what do I do? I think I’m going to lose.”

 

Just then, their scores appear, and Seonho yells in excitement when he sees that he’s beaten Daniel, the only one on their team to score higher than one of the team two members. Daniel covers his disappointment well, just letting out a small sigh and then quickly turning the attention to Jonghyun.

 

The rest of the ranks pass by quickly, and when everyone’s scores are projected onto the screen, Minhyun can feel the rest of his teammates counting the order in their heads. Jaehwan turns to him with his jaw dropped, and he whispers incredulously, “You really did get it all right.”

 

Minhyun only shrugs, and he lets a brief smirk cross his lips. Sure, this wasn’t a prediction he made from his own insight, but it’s gratifying for the others to realize that he wasn’t going crazy and lying about going to the future.

 

“We’ll talk later,” he murmurs back as everyone stands. He claps politely for the other team as they pass, making sure to clap Seonho encouragingly on the shoulder. “But I’m glad you believe me now.”

 

“Yeah, kind of hard not to now,” Jaehwan murmurs. He adjusts the lapels on his suit and clears his throat. “But it’s a relief that we won anyway,” he says.

 

Minhyun chuckles. “You don’t need to act all serious around me,” he says. “I know you already, remember?”

 

“Well, you say that, but I don’t really know you!” Jaehwan fires back indignantly. “So, like, even though we’ll switch teams now, don’t be a stranger, okay? I need to get as much blackmail on you that you probably have of me.”

 

A laugh spills from Minhyun before he realizes it, and he throws an arm around Jaehwan, ignoring the other’s splutters. “It’s a deal.”

 

“Good,” Jaehwan huffs.

 

They return to the waiting room and watch the rest of the performances. Minhyun already knows how they go, but he’s impressed nonetheless by Minki and Dongho’s performances. Minki suits the concept perfectly, looking ethereal as he charms his way into the audience’s hearts. Dongho looks focused and ready to fight, and Minhyun watches Guanlin fumble his way through the rap fondly. It’s amazing, he thinks, to realize exactly what bonds he’d formed with the rest of the trainees. For so long, it’d been Nu’est against the world, but as the program had worn on and on, he’d started to find companions that he lacked before. Don’t get him wrong, the Nu’est members are still the closest people he has to family in this industry, but he can’t be faulted for enjoying the company of others.

 

When all the performance are done, the trainees file their way for the live voting announcements, and Minhyun claps when Woodam is announced as the overall winner. It’s too bad that he wasn’t able to rise more, but another, more selfish, part of Minhyun thinks that he’s glad Woodam was unable to take the unofficial main vocal spot from Jaehwan.

 

Maybe it’s bad to prioritize your friends over others, and Minhyun knows that Woodam worked just as hard as any one of these other trainees, even when disadvantaged by his lower rank, but Minhyun is only human. Isn’t it that same selfishness that led him back to this time in the first place?

 

They crash as soon as they get back to the dorms, Daniel almost not wiping away his makeup until Minhyun drags him off his bunk and forces him into the bathroom. He doesn’t need to wear dirty makeup to sleep and wake up with pimples erupting all over his face, so Minhyun ignores his complaints and forces him to take it off. Hyunbin is still ecstatic from placing first, but he only manages to get one snarky remark out before Seongwoo throws a pillow at him and tells him to shut up, which he does, immediately.

 

They have the next few days off, thankfully, and Minhyun bids farewell to his dormmates when he and Jonghyun board the van back to their Pledis dorm near the end of their break. It’s the first time returning since the start of filming, and Minhyun leans against the window contemplatively.

 

“Are you doing to tell them?” Jonghyun asks across from him. Their driver is busy navigating the streets, and Jonghyun is careful to keep his words vague. “So that we’re all on the same page.”

 

Minhyun sighs through his nose, fogging up the window. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “I don’t know if it’ll help or hurt. I can’t do anything to help them anyway since we- we don’t get that much time together.”

 

Jonghyun’s eyebrows draw together at the last statement, and he nods, hopefully correcting reading it as the fact that they’re never in the same team. “I see,” he says neutrally. “And you’re worried because…”

 

Minhyun makes a frustrated noise. “I’d rather they just act like they have been,” he admits. “It all works out in the end.”

 

Jonghyun’s eyes light up in interest. “So they…”

 

Wincing, Minhyun hurries to correct him. “Well, it’s complicated,” he says. “But it’s not like you think it is. We should probably talk about that too, honestly.”

 

“Okay.” Jonghyun settles back, seemingly content with that answer. He clearly doesn’t want to push any further, and Minhyun is struck with admiration for him. For someone who’s taken on so many burdens and suffered so often since he was a teenager, Jonghyun is so mature and giving it astounds him.

 

When they reach the dorms, Minki and Dongho are already waiting inside with Aron huddling in a corner. As soon as Minhyun and Jonghyun enter, Dongho is on his feet and embraces them both in a giant bear hug.

 

“Missed you guys,” he says, voice muffled against their bodies.

 

Jonghyun chuckles and pats Dongho on his back. “Missed you too,” he says simply. Minhyun says nothing and clutches onto the back of Dongho’s shirt tightly.

 

Minki goes over and tugs Aron up, leading him to their huddle. “Come on, you’re a part of this group too,” he teases, practically throwing Aron at them. He lands between Minhyun and Dongho, and Minhyun laughs before wrapping an arm around their oldest member. Minki makes a satisfied sound and joins the hug. “I missed this,” he murmurs.

 

They stay like that for who knows how long, a tight bundle of emotions and longing. Minhyun buries his head into Dongho’s neck, feeling weeks- no, months of tension melting away at the contact. He’s always been a tactile person, leaning into the nearest body when looking for comfort or reassurance, and just this hug is already doing wonders for his mood. Despite all the uncertainties of the immediate future, for now, Minhyun is content to hug his brothers.

 

Eventually, though, they have to draw apart, and Aron beckons them all to sit on the couch. “Come on, kids, tell this old man what’s been going on behind the scenes,” he teases. “I only know what they want me to know, and let me tell you, that is not a lot.”

 

They laugh and collapse on the coach, Jonghyun groaning and complaining about his back while Dongho teasingly plays with Minki’s hair. Minhyun sighs a little, a pleased grin stretching across his lips. This is what he needed.

 

He listens to Minki talk about his time in the Replay group and how he’s made friends with half the younger trainees already, ever the social butterfly. He gushes about how cute Justin is and praises the RBW trainees for their talent, complains a little about their rushed schedule, but seems overall in a better place mentally than when they were preparing for the title song. Dongho has adopted Guanlin again, and Minhyun watches him try and fail to hide his fondness for the gangly Taiwanese boy. Jonghyun shares some of Seongwoo’s best jokes, and Minhyun chimes in once in a while to insert some anecdote about practice. Aron listens to them all with a fond smile on his face, but once the conversation winds down, his expression turns serious.

 

“We should talk about some things,” he says.

 

Everyone sobers up immediately, and the atmosphere turns grave. They haven’t had their phones on them since the start of filming, and bar the first episode viewing session the camera crews had filmed, none of them really know how they’re being received. Oh, sure, they hear the whispers from other contestants with phones, and their manager is constantly giving vague updates, but they haven’t had the chance to properly monitor their actions. This meeting between all of them is vital, not just for their mental and emotional health, but also for their actions going forward.

 

“What’re they saying?” Minhyun asks. This is actually something he needs to know, since he’s fairly certain that things have changed. From his not-so-little emotional outburst to the more condensed Sorry Sorry Team 2 bonding, his actions have undoubtedly affected the way he and the rest of Nu’est are portrayed on screen. He wants to know what he has to do to make the other members stand out more or for himself to stand out less. The first four episodes have aired already, and none of them have had the chance to watch them all the way through.

 

Aron grimaces. “Reviews are… mixed,” he says carefully, and Minhyun feels cold all over. “And it depends on the members too.”

 

“Let’s go through one by one,” Jonghyun says, rubbing his hands together anxiously. “And then talk about the group at the end.”

 

“Well, okay. Minki, people generally think you’re a bit of a crybaby?” Aron says, voice lilting up at the end like he’s not sure if that should be a question of not. “I think the problem is that you’re not getting a tone of screentime other than when you’re, well, crying, so people’s general impressions aren’t that good yet.”

 

“What!” Minki protests. “I stopped crying as soon as we started group evaluations! I did so many cute things with my team! We bonded really well, and I’m friends with everyone!”

 

“I know, I know,” Aron soothes, “but that’s not the image Mnet is picking for you. It’s not overwhelmingly negative, though, and most people are choosing to focus on other things.”

 

Minki groans and falls back against the coach. “Ugh, I don’t know if it’s better for them to focus on me crying or for me to not exist,” he grumbles. “I’d rather I still get some attention than none.”

 

Jonghyun pats his knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you will. You’re the most popular one here, so that’ll catch up later on.”

 

Minhyun guiltily thinks about Minki consistently ranking the lowest of them all and his final 20th place and keeps his mouth shut.

 

“There haven’t been any posts trending about you yet, Dongho,” Aron says. “But your team is getting a lot of positive attention in general and partially riding on the backlash that that Daehwi kid got, and I think your image sticks out among all the other trainees. The flower boys are getting a lot of screentime.”

 

Dongho hums along in agreement, examining his nails, and Minhyun knows that he’ll continue to act true to his own character regardless of what feedback he gets. So far, nothing has really changed from the first time, making him relieved. It seems like the only things that change are the ones that Minhyun himself directly initiates, so  

 

“Now,” Aron stretches out lazily. “For our two problem children, Jonghyun and Minhyun.”

 

“What did we do?” Jonghyun tries to ask the question playfully, but his stiff posture gives him away. He’s clearly stressed, and Minhyun tries to calm him by placing a hand on his knee. He’s not expecting too much for himself since he knows his image could have been manipulated either way, but if he did his job right, Jonghyun should still come out with the same shining reputation as before. “How’re people reacting?”

 

“Well…” Aron sucks in a breath. “How should I put this… People are in love with you.”

 

Minhyun almost falls off his chair. “What?”

 

“Yeah,” Aron remarks dryly. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised since you two always knew how to play the game the best. Well, Minhyun, I suppose. Jonghyun is just too likable.”

 

“Explain,” Minhyun demands, leaning forward.

 

“First of all, everyone loves your team,” Aron elaborates. He brings his phone out and begins tapping away, pulling up several articles for them to read. “A lot of people are saying that you’re the true Avengers team, and, get this, the international fans are starting to call you the Justice League. You know, like the Avengers, but darker and more mature. It suits you guys, I guess, considering that you all pull off the charismatic concept.”

 

“That can’t be it, right?” Minhyun asks. This is all old news from the first time around, and he knows that he’s done a lot to change what might have shown up on screen.

 

“People are saying that you’re the perfect debut team already,” Aron says. “Jonghyun got a good leader edit, and they cut in a lot of interviews of you, Minhyun, and the rest of the guys saying that he was the best, so levelheaded, and whatever. It helps that they framed your little emotional outburst as unwavering loyalty and support because you know how good he is.” He punches Minhyun on the shoulder, a little too hard for it to be entirely dismissed as a joke. “That was unprofessional and messy of you, though. You’re lucky they didn’t take that and make it into a “Nu’est against the world” storyline. They played it off as your observation skills instead. When you get back, make sure to thank your teammates for talking about how great Jonghyun is and how glad they are they listened to you in their individual interviews.”

 

Minhyun agrees dazedly, accepting the rebuke for what it is. “And? What about my own image?”

 

“You cried during the reevaluation, but were clearly way ahead in skill in your class, helped everyone out, picked a great team, yelled at said great team, and then suddenly appeared all chummy with them,” Aron says dryly. “People are struggling to find a storyline, and even Mnet doesn’t seem to know what to do. They included the part where Jonghyun asked for the cameras to leave, and when your teammates got asked, they just said that they understand your heart now and that everyone has bonded. Yay, puppies and rainbows, everything is sunshine in Sorry Sorry land!”

 

“It does sound bad when you put it like that…”

 

“Most people seem to agree that you just have really strong feelings,” Aron says. “And you’re getting a lot of sympathy for your original rank because you proved your skill afterwards. A lot of fans are saying that you’re under a lot of pressure and that it's understandable. But most of the attention you’re getting is for that adorable puppy pile you guys randomly had in the middle of practice. People are drawing a lot of attention to that tall model kid in your group too. They say his work ethic is admirable.”

 

Minhyun has to cover a snort. That’s the complete opposite of what happened, and thinking about the amount of hate Hyunbin has avoided makes him a little happier than he was before. At least he’s accomplished one of his goals.

 

“People have also been calling Jonghyun an angel,” Aron adds. Dongho mutters under his breath, “tell us something we didn’t already know,” and Jonghyun glows at the praise. “So if someone is pulling ahead of the rest of the pack, I think it’ll probably be Jonghyun.”

 

“That’s fine with me,” Minhyun says, relieved.

 

“So what’s the plan now?” Dongho asks. “Should we try to get on the same team later on or are we still going with the ‘they don’t explicitly talk about Nu’est’ concept?”

 

“I think it’s fine if we’re on the same team as long as we don’t blatantly show favoritism to one another,” Jonghyun chimes in. “We should learn from Minki and make more friends too. Everyone loves a good friendship.”

 

“Agreed,” Minki says. “I want more screentime, though, and I don’t really know what to do about that.”

 

“You have lots of variety sense, maybe play that up a bit more? And see if you can find a way to highlight your friendships with the younger ones,” Aron advises. “You can’t force the editors to give you screentime, but you can maximize your actions to seem more interesting.”

 

They continue to strategize, talking about recent trends that they can capitalize on, whether or not their managers will care if they go out, and Dongho and Minki team up on Aron to try and cajole him into buying them chicken while Jonghyun watches fondly. Minhyun, meanwhile, is deep in thought like he is too often these days.

 

“Guys,” he says. Everyone turns to look at him, conversation fading out as they wait for him to continue. Minhyun’s mouth feels dry, and he sees Jonghyun’s eyes widening. _Are you going to do it?_ they seem to ask, and Minhyun doesn’t respond. “We have to talk about something.”

 

“We’re talking now,” Dongho jokes. “Why, do you have something to add?”

 

“I do,” Minhyun says. “I think we need to start thinking about what to do in the long term.”

 

The other four exchange looks. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Dongho asks. “Planning our actions, trying to work with the storylines we’ve been given and minimizing damage, what part of that isn’t long term?”

 

“No, more ahead than that,” Minhyun replies. “Like… what do we want the outcome for Nu’est to actually be? What does this mean for us, as a team?”

 

“We’re here to get publicity,” Dongho says. “That’s the goal, that’s always been the goal.”

 

“And it looks like we’re succeeding,” Minhyun says. “I’m not trying to pick a fight or be sarcastic, that’s not what I mean. I’m just saying- what’s the best outcome for us? Forget being humble, forget trying to play it safe. Let’s say we all become huge, all four of us. We all get individual fanbases, endear ourselves to the public, become recognized for both our talents and our personalities, to the point where we all have a chance of making it to the final top eleven. What then? What do we actually want?”

 

Minhyun knows what he wants, and he also knows what he gets. But the dressing down he got from Seongwoo and the subsequent fallout in the Sorry Sorry team has reminded him that he shouldn’t try and fix everything on his own; in fact, he can’t. So far, Minhyun has selfishly concluded that he wants to let himself drop from the top eleven so Nu’est can have the best chances of survival, but who knows what the others think? It’s unfair to them if he automatically assumes that he knows what’s best.

 

He won’t tell them about the time travel, he knows that much. Telling the Sorry Sorry Team 2 members was a decision born out of equal amounts of necessity and nostalgia, but also because Minhyun knows that their futures don’t necessarily lie in jeapordy like Nu’est’s does. Call him selfish, ungrateful, manipulative, whatever- he loves his friends, but he might love Nu’est a little bit more, just enough for him to not risk changing their immediate futures.

 

Instead, he presents the situation as a hypothetical, the best case scenario that essentially happened the first time. His words send the rest of them deep into thought, bar Jonghyun who looks at him sympathetically. _Is this what happened the first time?_ He mouths at Minhyun, and Minhyun gives a tiny shrug.

 

“I don’t know how likely that is,” Dongho says finally, breaking the silence. “But isn’t that a good thing? If all four of us have a chance to break into the top eleven, that means we’ve succeeded.”

 

“I agree,” Minki says. He’s moved to perch on Aron’s arm rest, chin propped against his hand. “If any one of us succeeds, we all succeed. Isn’t that how we’ve always done it? I don’t think we need to overthink. Besides, there’s so much out of our control, we can’t predict how we’ll be perceived by the majority of viewers. It’s better to strategize according to what we know.”

 

“But what happens to Aron if all of us get in?” Minhyun presses, unwilling to let this issue go. This is the type of thinking that screwed them over the first time, their unwillingness to entertain the idea that for once in their lives, something good could happen and they’d be able to reach the heights that they did. “Or what happens if three of us get in and one person doesn’t? Two? One?”

 

“He has a point,” Jonghyun says slowly. “I don’t know what Pledis wants for us to prove that we can still make money. Considering the amount of debt we’re in-” Everyone winces simultaneously at the reminder of how far away they are from breaking even. “-it’s safe to assume that we’d need visible results to prove ourselves. Isn’t getting into the top eleven the best indication of that?”

 

“Yes, but we need to think about the future of this group,” Minhyun points out, pulse quickening. “It’s unrealistic to think that the amount we make in Wanna- in the final group will be enough to pay all the sum total of all five of us. Besides, the contracts only last for two years.”

 

“We might be able to squeeze in a comeback in between promotions though,” Minki rebuts. “That’s what some girls did last year-”

 

“They won’t let us this year,” Minhyun says. “With the new contract terms being tightened up, we’re essentially putting Nu’est on hiatus-”

 

“Wait, the terms were changed?” Jonghyun asks, looking alarmed. “When did you hear that?”

 

Shoot.

 

Minhyun can’t remember when the information became public last time, but none of them knew the exact terms when they were told to sign. When you’re an idol, you get used to being left out of the loop and accepting whatever the company decides to throw at you.

 

“It’s just rumors,” he hastily claims, trying to cover his tracks. “And it would make sense, considering the backlash they got last season.”

 

“Hm, I guess you’re right.” Jonghyun, bless his heart, can clearly tell this is future information and moves on. “Suppose that’s right. Is it possible to do a unit promotion if we suppose that the members who get in are effectively on hiatus from promoting with us?”

 

“It’d depend on who got in,” Aron inserts. “And also whether or not Pledis will give us that chance.”

 

“I was thinking…” Minhyun feels his heart beat faster. “What if… we all made it to the final round and none of us made it?”

 

“Hear me out,” he rushes to continue before any of them object. “If we’re popular enough, then people will support us regardless of whether or not we’re attached to Produce 101, and we’ll be full strength for our comeback. We can bring new fans over and rebuild our fanbase, and if people like us, they’ll probably support us even more because of the injustice of none of us making it. Then we get people who buy in even further and invest more, thus leading to more dedicated fans. In my opinion, that’s the situation we should aim for.”

 

He takes a deep breath once he finishes. There. He’s laid all his cards on the table, and now he has to wait for them to respond.

 

“No wonder your nickname is Emperor,” Aron says finally. “You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this.”

 

Minhyun flushes. “Well, someone has to,” he says defensively.

 

“Yeah, no, it’s not a problem” Aron says, crossing his legs. “I just think you’re overthinking it right now. There’s an English saying: we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. It basically means that we should handle problems as they come. There’s no way for us know exactly how things pan out, so it’ll hurt more to stress out now.”

 

“But-” Minhyun stops himself from protesting that he knows exactly how things play out, but they’re not supposed to know that.

 

“It’s okay,” Dongho says, still relaxed from his position on the sofa. “We can talk more after the first official ranks come out. Filming for that is, what? In a few days?”

 

“Two days,” Minhyun replies automatically.

 

“We can talk again in two days then,” Dongho says confidently. “And don’t worry about the final outcome. Whatever publicity we get will be good for us.”

 

You don’t know that, Minhyun thinks miserably. None of them know how it feels to be the only one sitting on top of that harsh blue pyramid while waiting in vain for someone to join them. They don’t know the slowly dawning realization that he’s trapped for two years without any of his brothers, to know that he’ll have to act happy while the fate of the rest hang in limbo, and if he has it his way, none of them will know that, not even himself.

 

“It’s fine,” Jonghyun adds. He’s the only one who knows the full extent of what Minhyun is suggesting, and he smiles in Minhyun’s direction. “Trust us to figure things out when they come, okay, Minhyun?”

 

“It’s not you guys I don’t trust. It’s everyone else,” Minhyun says unhappily.

 

“Ah, I don’t want to worry about the future!” Minki declares. He throws himself across Dongho and wriggles a bit before he gets comfortable. “We only have so much time together, let’s talk about something non-work related. Aron, what’ve you been up to?”

 

Just like that, they fall into their old patterns. Jonghyun confesses that he’s been suffering from game withdrawal which leads to immediate teasing on all ends. Aron offers to let Dongho borrow his razor to which Dongho bats him away with a grumble.

 

All too soon, their manager comes in to cart them away back to the show dorms. It takes forever for Aron to finish hugging all of them, and when he pulls Minhyun into a tight embrace, he whispers into his ear, “Relax. Try to have fun. The whole world isn’t resting on your shoulders, okay? We’ve got your back.”

 

“I know,” Minhyun whispers back. He pats Aron’s back extra hard. “Thanks.”

 

“Go kill it, kid,” Aron responds, pulling away.

 

Eliminations come faster than Minhyun thought they would. It seems like one day he’s out with the rest of the Sorry Sorry Team 2, taking selfies on the streets, and the next he’s facing that dreaded pyramid.

 

 Minhyun can’t stop shaking his leg, even as he chuckles loudly at each trainee’s outrageous entrance. It’s impossible to forget his rankings, each one burned into his mind like it was branded, but he has no idea what to expect this time. He thinks he can expect most results to stay the same, and if they’re lucky, they’ll be exactly the same.

 

Now that he’s gotten his emotions sorted a bit more, Minhyun thinks he’ll be able to more directly influence the results, especially once the number of trainees is whittled down and each trainee’s storylines become solidified. He knows that Nu’est isn’t the main character, that Mnet’s editing will begin to focus on other trainees as the season progresses, but if he can do just enough to make himself fall by two rankings, he’ll count it as a success.

 

As soon as BoA appears, the tension in the room rackets up by several notches. The trainees stand to applaud enthusiastically, but there are more than a few nervous throat bobs and trembling hands going around. Minhyun catches Sunghyuck with his head in his hands, taking a deep breath before he sits up and blinks premature tears out of his eyes. He wants to reassure him and let him know that he goes further than anyone expects, but he restrains himself. Remembering Aron’s words, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Everyone will cross their bridges in their own time. Just wait.

 

The first few rankings pass by in a flash. Minhyun tunes out for most of it, because loathe as he is to admit, the rankings shift so much in this season that hardly any of these ranks stay relevant. He only starts paying attention again when they hit the top thirty, watching Park Woojin go up and thank the national producers with a look of disbelief on his face. Last time, Hyunbin was called up for rank twenty-three, and he braces himself for his teammate’s name to be called.

 

BoA’s voice is solemn as she reads, “Rank twenty-three: Park Sungwoo.”

 

“What?” Minhyun voices aloud, hands automatically clapping as he watches their oldest contestant go up. “I didn’t expect that.”

 

BoA keeps calling names, and trainees keep going up, but none of them are Hyunbin. Dongho is called up for number twenty-one, one rank lower than last time, and Minhyun dazedly claps him on the back in congratulations while wondering what is happening. Minki goes up for number twenty, again, one rank down, and Minhyun has a sinking feeling in her stomach as he listens to Minki’s speech.

 

When the twentieth rank trainees go up to their places on stage, BoA takes up her microphone again and begins reading.

 

“Now, it’s time to announce the ranks of the trainees in the top twenty. These are the ones who can threaten the top eleven, the true dark horses who the national producers can push up at any moment,” she warns, eyes flitting from one side of the room to the next. “We’ll start with nineteenth place.”

 

Who was nineteenth last time? Oh, that’s right, it was Minki. Minhyun glances over to where Hyunbin is sitting, somehow still looking good even as he worries a lip between his bottom teeth.

 

“This trainee is loved for his hardworking image and his determination to improve,” BoA recites. Murmuring breaks out among the trainees, all wondering who it could be.

 

Jonghyun leans over and whispers into Minhyun’s ear, “Who is it?” and Minhyun can only shake his head dumbly.

 

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “This is different-”  He stops there, afraid the cameras might pick up on more, and Jonghyun looks suitably alarmed at the fact that changes are happening.

 

“Part of Sorry Sorry Team 2, this trainee has a lot of contrasting charms-”

 

That basically destroys any doubt Minhyun has, and he whispers to Jonghyun, “Hyunbin, it’s Hyunbin.”

 

“Pledis, Hwang Minhyun.”

 

… huh?

 

He almost can’t process Jonghyun nudging him, saying, “You, it’s you,” and he only stands after Jonghyun practically shoves him to his feet, stumbling up to the front. He takes his appointed spot in a daze, and he thinks faintly to himself that this is the lowest point he’s ever stood at. He’s joined by several other familiar faces, but he can’t remember if this is where they were supposed to be or not. Hyunbin is called at sixteenth, and his face is bright as ever. He hugs Minhyun as he passes him, and Minhyun finds it within himself to congratulate him before letting him go.

 

When all this round of trainees are called up, the microphone is passed to Minhyun first as BoA asks for a few words.

 

Minhyun normally prides himself on his speech. He’s not shy in admitting that he’s a good public speaker, great even, but in this instance, he finds he doesn’t have words to say.

 

“Uh…” he says, trying to gather his thoughts. “Firstly, I’d like to thank all the national producers who voted for me and showed their love. It feels unfamiliar to be standing in this position-" this statement is true in more ways than one, "-and I’m thankful that I’m here. I’d like to thank my Sorry Sorry Team members…” And so he goes on, rattling off the normal platitudes fans expect as thanks for supporting him, and he passes the microphone on with relief.

 

Climbing up to his seat, Minhyun accepts the high gives from Dongho and Minki, and he realizes that the three Nu’est members rank immediately after one another in a twist of irony. The initial shock of hearing his name called lower than he expected has worn off, and he focuses his attention on the top eleven.

 

To his shock, Jaehwan’s name is called where his should’ve been, at number eleven. The individual trainee can’t stop the relieved smile from spreading across his face as he comments on how lucky he feels to have this rank as an individual trainee. The rest of the top eleven fills in as Minhyun remembers, Jonghyun easily sitting the highest of the Nu’est members at eighth.

 

When he’s asked for a few words, Minhyun realizes that he can’t encourage Hyunbin because, well, this time around Hyunbin doesn’t need that much encouragement. He found his two feet on his own, and so instead, Jonghyun turns with a gentle smile aimed directly at Minhyun.

 

“To my fellow Pledis friends,” he begins, breaking the cardinal rule of broadcast by turning his back to the primary camera. “I want to say that this is just the start for us. We have a long way to go, so let’s keep running with all our might towards the finish line. I also want to thank the rest of my team from Sorry Sorry for helping create such wonderful memories and such a great stage. Thank you to everyone, especially the national producers, and I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

 

Numbly, he rises to hug Jonghyun alongside Minki and Dongho, and Minhyun watches him climb the steps with a feeling twisting in his stomach that he can’t put words to. Jonghyun sits, stuff his hands between his legs like a child, and is officially the only member of Nu’est in the top eleven as of the first ranking.

 

The drama of who’s first doesn’t matter to Minhyun, and neither does the drama of sixtieth place. He shifts in his seat, wondering exactly what this nervousness is. Anxiety? No, that’s not right. It definitely isn’t happiness, even though Minhyun knows that’s what he should be feeling. His plan is working. Whatever changes happened, voluntary or not, he’s already one step closer to reuniting Nu’est after the show ends. But why does this unsettled feeling keep writhing inside of him?

 

It’s only long after the cameras are off, when the trainees are dismissed to their dorms for the night, and Minhyun is lying in bed staring at the familiar bottom of the top bunk that he’s able to place a name to feeling.

 

Jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPOSITION, aka nu'est bonding because dongho and minki have been gone for too long and aron exists, aka TIME FOR A COLD WASH OF REALITY, aka Minhyun Feelings because those are what inspired this fic in the first place.
> 
> chapter numbers and episode numbers now also do not correspond to one another anymore T___T blame Justice League for giving me too much material to work with.


	7. Episode 6

6

 

Minhyun’s surprised the bottom of the top bunk doesn’t have a hole in it from how many times Minhyun has glared at it. This has become a depressingly familiar situation: Minhyun, listening to Daniel’s sleep-mumbling and the rest of his teammate’s snores when he should be getting his rest. He thought he’d be able to sleep more soundly after revealing his secret to his friends, but it turns out that he can’t even predict this properly.

 

Tossing to the other side, he scowls uselessly at the wall instead. It’s not like him to be so disturbed by a low ranking, but Minhyun distinctly remembers being ranked higher at this point last year. Perhaps, Minhyun thinks, he would be less bothered if he didn’t already know what was supposed to happen. After all, he falls among the average ranking that Nu’est members received, Dongho, Minki, and himself all lined up in a pretty row. Jonghyun is the outlier, and maybe Minhyun would be happy with that outcome if he wasn’t used to placing in the top eleven or being close to it, and doesn’t that say so much about himself.

 

He rolls over again so that he’s resting on his elbow and stares into the darkness. He can see Hyunbin’s legs twitching under his blankets from where their youngest rests on the ground, and the sight is enough to make his lips curve upwards. If anything, he’s happy to spare Hyunbin the pain of all those hate comments since he became the first victim of the so-called evil editing, but Minhyun can’t help but wonder how this change will affect Nu’est.

 

His phone lights up with a generic email notification, but the brightness is stark against the night. Minhyun grabs it and squints at the screen. It’s already close to 2:00 a.m., and they get up in four hours to start filming. Minhyun’s finger hovers over the internet tab as he hesitates. Each episode if two hours long, and he won’t have enough time to watch all the episodes even if he stays up the entire night. Plus, he’ll be tired for filming the next day, and since they’re starting with position evaluations, he needs to consider what song he wants to do-

 

Ah, whatever. He’s an idol, he’s survived on less sleep than this before.

 

Unlocking his phone, Minhyun flips himself to bury his head under the pillow to watch so he doesn’t disturb the others. Luckily, his earbuds were close enough for him to grab without having to leave his bed, and he quickly finds an upload of the episode online. As a celebrity, he got used to searching for any and all information or feedback from online communities, especially as a group as unknown as Nu’est, so this is a breeze for him.

 

He skips the uselessly sentimental introduction and settles in to watch as the familiar blue pyramid looms on the screen.

 

The first few performances go by quickly, and Minhyun lets himself skip ahead to where Nu’est enters. He’s pleased to note that they look good, striding in with confidence and elegance that draws the other trainees’ eyes, but as soon as they step in front of the judges, Minhyun braces himself for reliving that moment of humiliation.

 

The tearing up isn’t as bad as he expected since it takes everyone by surprise, but he still cringes as he sees himself cry. It’s not so much the crying itself that bothers him but the fact that he was the only one who did when everyone had equal reason to cry. It’s a bit embarrassing, especially when the sad piano version of their theme song starts playing. His crying fades to a cut from preliminary interviews with trainees who have previously debuted, talking about how the hardships don’t end after debut with a montage of previous live stages. It’s like pouring salt into a wound and then aggressively dragging a rough towel over it.

 

It makes him look weak, and while Minhyun isn’t afraid to show his soft side in front of people he cares about, let’s be honest: it’s humiliating when its paraded in front of the entire world like this. The only thing he’s thankful about is how his members automatically wrap themselves around him when the camera finally turns back to the evaluations. It doesn’t do much in terms of shielding him from the pervasive cameras, but the action’s value is in its symbolism, and Minhyun feels a wave of gratitude crash over him.

 

That goodwill quickly disappears once their performance begins, and it’s even worse than he remembers. Minhyun doesn’t think his voice has sounded that bad since… well, to be honest, it’s never sounded that bad. It’s easily his worst performance, and Minhyun winces at the cuts the camera makes to other trainees’ appalled faces. To be fair, he’d be appalled too.

 

He goes to the next episode once he’s sure that all of the significant Nu’est cuts have passed, and once the second episode loads, he skips the first half to go straight to class training. He gets a good amount of screentime as he helps other trainees, especially as Hyungseob credits him for his improvement. This leads to a series of interview cuts from other D class trainees who talk about how helpful he is, Guanlin getting the most amount of time to talk with his stilted Korean before cutting to Minhyun encouraging Guanlin before he filmed his evaluation.

 

It’s not a bad look, and Minhyun comes off as humble and nice with the quotes they choose from his individual interview time. Almost his entire reevaluation is shown, and the trainers pour out a copious amount of praise on him. It’s a good amount of screentime and enough to justify his weak vocals from the previous episode.

 

The problem comes in episode three when Minhyun begins to- well, for lack of a better word, act like a dick.

 

There’s not a lot of emphasis placed on it, and it’s not like he gets an evil edit, but it’s noticeable when he stands further away from other trainees, when he goes straight to Jonghyun to chat, and, Minhyun notices with a wince, when he accidentally rebuffs Guanlin’s approach after the center evaluations. Honestly, he hadn’t noticed at the time because he was so preoccupied with what was coming next, but that’s not an excuse that netizens will accept if this goes viral. He hasn’t seen any news articles yet, but there’s no telling when will come back to bite him in the future.

 

He watches like that for the rest of the aired episodes, skipping to mainly focus on the parts that are relevant to Nu’est and himself. He can see what Aron meant about getting mixed reviews since Dongho and Minki still have the same problems adjusting as they drop in rank, and Jonghyun gets a nice cut where he jokes around with Daniel and stays behind to help Jaehwan.

 

The problem, he reflects, is that Mnet was clearly angling to give him a mentor edit where he rises above his circumstances and rises like a phoenix from the ashes or whatever, but Minhyun ruined all that by not continuing those connections after he rose in class. It’s not as noticeable as it will be later on since none of the trainees have become super close yet, but it’s still worrying.

 

The Sorry Sorry Team 2 screentime helps. They actually have more screentime than they did last time, as improbable and unfair as that seems, and they go through an entire dramatic sequence of Minhyun being standoffish at practice, Hyunbin and Jaehwan not doing well in front of the trainers, Jonghyun being scolded, their silent walk back to the practice room, and Jonghyun asking the cameras to leave. Of course, they show some cuts from the cameras filming them outside the room, and some muffled yelling can be heard, but nothing that can be distinguished.

 

Everything picks up once the cameras return to film their puppy pile, and there’s a dramatic caption that reads, “What happened?”

 

Cue, cut to an interview sequence where the question was, “What happened while the cameras were gone?” Everyone says basically the same thing: that they talked through their problems, and in a moment of uncharacteristic seriousness, Seongwoo notes that he, “understands everyone’s hearts better.” To Minhyun’s relief, he’s not specifically pointed out in any of the interview clips, and they put in his comment about how this group feels like his family now.

 

If anything, his ranking will probably rise as long as he stays close to the Sorry Sorry Team 2 members, and he might get a similar edit to Park Woojin as a shy person around strangers. Even if Dongho, Minki, or Jonghyun object to this edit publically, the netizens won’t matter if they like that constructed image enough.

 

After all, anything is acceptable as long as you say it with a smile.

 

The pillow is suddenly forcibly removed from Minhyun’s head, and he groans when his eyes are exposed to the bright yellow light from the overhead light. Jaehwan is standing above him, a disbelieving expression painted on his face.

 

“Where you watching that all night?” he asks incredulously once he gets a better look at the screen. “Jeez, I knew you were obsessed, but this is a whole other level.”

 

“What was he watching?” Seongwoo asks, ambling over with one hand scratching his stomach. He flops on top of Minhyun, ignoring his pained groan, and blinks twice when he sees the screen. “Oh, wow, I haven’t even had time to catch up on these yet. Hang on, this is the latest episode, isn’t it? How did you watch all these in the same night? Did you use your time travel to go back?”

 

“No, you idiot,” Minhyun scowls. “I skipped around. Obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Seongwoo echoes with a skeptical expression. “You look like a zombie. Did you get any rest?”

 

“I’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Idiot, how are you going to practice if you didn’t get any sleep?”

 

“I’ve done it before, it’s fine.”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Why were you watching that anyway?” Jonghyun asks. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s already pulled on the pink shirt they were all told to wear today. “We already talked together about what we want to happen, and we got a rundown.”

 

“Well…”

 

Minhyun is reluctant to share his thoughts with them. It feels too exposing, telling them the exact details about the previous time’s rankings, even if everyone here is safely away from the danger zone. He doesn’t want to admit that he thinks he should be ranked higher because he was more popular last time because it seems so self-centered.

 

“I’m a bit worried because the rankings are different from last time,” he settles on saying. “And I wanted to check how I came across on broadcast to see what happened.”

 

That seems safe enough to say. It reveals why Minhyun is worried without giving the exact details since they don’t know the rankings from last time, and it’s perfectly logical for Minhyun to want to make sure he’s doing well on the show.

 

“So your ranking was higher in the past, and you dropped this time,” Seongwoo deduces immediately.

 

Minhyun’s jaw drops. “How did you know?”

 

“Your reaction, for one,” Seongwoo says dryly. “But also, you said that you wanted to check how you came across on broadcast, not how the show was edited in general, meaning that your rank in particular must have changed. Plus, anyone could tell that you weren’t happy about your ranking, and you told Jonghyun you thought that Hyunbin would be called up instead. If you got a higher rank as compared to the first time you did this, I doubt you’d be this obsessed over it. So? How far off the mark am I?”

 

Sometimes, Minhyun forgets how clever Seongwoo is, all sharp wit and detailed observation under his layers of playfulness. It’s crystal clear in moments like this, however, that Seongwoo isn’t here to play around.

 

“You’re right,” he admits. “I was supposed to be in the top eleven during the first ranking, so I was thrown off.”

 

“Who replaced you?” Jonghyun asks curiously. He crouches down to poke at Hyunbin who, amazingly, still hasn’t opened his eyes or moved through all this commotion. “Don’t say it’s me, I’ll feel terrible.”

 

“It wasn’t you,” Minhyun hurriedly assures him. “Your ranking is the same.”

 

Jonghyuns brightens a little at that. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, you’re pretty consis-” Minhyun cuts himself off, bitterness coating his throat at the thought of Jonghyun’s rank last time. His rank _had_ been consistent, everyone thinking that he was an easy lock for the final group of eleven, but guess what? Fate had other plans. Just thinking about that last stage still makes Minhyun want to scream and throw something, but that would only make everyone worried and also late for filming, so he controls himself. But. Still. “Yeah. You were the same rank last time.”

 

“Hm, okay.” Jonghyun’s answer clearly shows that he doesn’t buy everything Minhyun is selling, and the look he shoots him is screaming, _we’re talking about this later._ Minhyun winces and gives a barely perceptible nod.  “Anyway, we need to hurry in for filming, we’re starting soon- how is Hyunbin _still_ not awake?”

 

“One of the world’s greatest mysteries,” Daniel says hypocritically, finally sitting up from his bunk. His newly dyed hair is a far cry from the neat and stylish coif it’ll become for his dance performance, but there’s already a grin stretched across his face despite Daniel having woken up five minutes ago, ten if Minhyun is being generous. “If you guys are interested in hearing my opinion-”

 

“Which we’re not,” Jaehwan interjects.

 

Daniel cheerfully ignores his grumbles and continues, “-I think you’re all overthinking it. Let’s just go and see what they have in store for us, then do our best, yeah?”

 

“Spoken like a true optimist,” Minhyun says smiling. Daniel’s cheerfulness is infectious, and Minhyun can’t help but respond. It’s not hard to see why Daniel was chosen as the final center. “But I agree. We’re already running behind schedule.”

 

“Someone kick Hyunbin and tell him to wake up,” Seongwoo says. Jaehwan does so immediately, disregarding Hyunbin’s pained yelp and betrayed, “ _hyung”_ as he goes. “Let’s go, it’s time to face another evaluation round.”

 

Filing into the position evaluation room, Minhyun makes sure that the camera catches him chatting with Guanlin, exchanging greetings with Hyungseob, even throwing Seonho a smile that leaves the kid looking dazed. Seonho is still adorable, and Minhyun’s going to try to get closer to him during their vocal practices. Guanlin and Hyungseob look vaguely surprised that Minhyun is talking to them, but Hyungseob is happy to chat with him as they wait, and Guanlin silently trails behind him with big eyes.

 

They stand in lines according to their new ranks, Minhyun a little further behind than he’s accustomed to, but that’s okay. He can see some lower ranked trainees glancing jealously at the smaller numbers further ahead, and not for the first time despises the ranking system that this program has pushed on them. It wasn’t extremely visible, but definitely became noticeable as the program dragged on and the higher ranked trainees quickly became more comfortable than the lower ranked ones.

 

It wasn’t any of their faults in particular, but walking around all day with a label stuck to your shirt and a giant bold printed number denoting your worth took its toll on everyone. Just in different ways.

 

Minhyun glances down at the 19 on his shirt and tugs on it self-consciously without even realizing he’s doing it until his hands come down. It’s silly, so silly, but Minhyun can’t help but think about how if that one disappears, if that one bold stroke of black ink was gone, he’d be standing here, about to pick songs for the second evaluation stage, with the same number he stood on the final stage with.

 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on the thought because then BoA is striding in with her killer heels, looking confident and poised amidst the hollers from the boys. Minhyun claps along with them because he remembers how she took time to speak with the trainees when the cameras were off, how she was gentle and strict at the same time while enlightening them on the realities of idol life. She was always kind, and Minhyun knows  how much kindness means in their industry.

 

She explains what’s going to happen for the position evaluations, and this time, Minhyun has enough objectivity to realize that this was one of the few positive changes that show made. On one hand, it made it harder for the trainees to strategize based on their teammates, yes, but it also made sure that people had to rely more on their skills.

 

Of course, as Minhyun sneaks a glance back at rank 55 Park Woodam nervously clutching his hands to his chest, some people never got the chance to show their skills.

 

He watches the top ranks go through and pick, and when he hears Hyungseob’s anguished wail, he knows that the Get Ugly team is well on its way to being formed. For a quick second, he entertains the idea of joining the team just to see if he could keep up with their dance skills, but quickly discards the idea. Firstly, his strength lies in his vocals. Secondly, he wants to make sure people know he can sing if he’s going to try and drop from Wanna One to rejoin Nu’est instead, and finally, well, he’d feel terrible if he took the spotlight away from Woojin like that. The kid is cute.

 

None of the songs are closed yet when Minhyun gets to choose, and from the commotion behind the walls when Hyunbin went, Minhyun is sure that he chose Downpour again. When its his turn to step up, he doesn’t hesitate before swiping the Downpour placard and going to stand next to his team.

 

Jonghyun is in Fear again, and Seongwoo and Daniel are already shoving each other playfully and giggling together in the Get Ugly line, so Minhyun doesn’t worry too much about them. Half of the original Sorry Sorry team is in Downpour, and out of the five team members, four of them get into the final group. Speaking of which, Minhyun realizes as he looks around him, he may have decided to come back and change things for Nu’est’s sake, but nothing has really changed so far, at least, not in a way that’s instantly recognizable.

 

All the team formations and assignments have stayed the same with the only changes coming from Minhyun’s personal life.  It’s not like Minhyun can expect a lot more to change, especially if his goal is to _not_ get into the top elevent, also known as exactly the opposite of what everyone else is trying to do. No matter how much he monitors his own airtime or changes his image, there are too many factors for him to control whether or not people vote for him.

 

The problem is that he’s not just trying to not get into the top eleven. He’s trying to not get into the top eleven with enough popularity to make people outraged on Nu’est’s collective behalf so they’ll still support them when they come back. It’s a complicated ask.

 

Ugh. He should just get in a scandal and be done with it.

 

He banishes the thought as soon as it comes because that sort of thinking will only get him in trouble. Instead, he focuses back in on the discussion his group members are having.

 

“It’s a sad song,” Jaehwan says, hands clasping his ankles. He looks relaxed, but the way his eyes dart to Sungwoon periodically reveals his anxiety. “But there are really powerful parts to it for emotional impact, so we need someone with a strong voice.”

 

“I agree,” Sungwoon says. He’s leaned forward so it looks like he’s crouched on the ground, tapping a pen furiously against the carpet. “So? Who wants it? You or me?”

 

“Of course I want it,” Jaehwan says immediately. “Do you?”

 

Sungwoon laughs and doesn’t say anything.

 

Here’s the thing. Sungwoon isn’t a bad guy. Someone was going to be eleventh place, and it’s not his fault that Jonghyun wasn’t. That doesn’t erase the twinge of regret that Minhyun feels every time he looks at him, but again, it’s not his fault. If Minhyun is going to try and drop away from his final ninth place ranking, he’s going to need someone to take his place too. Who it’ll be, Minhyun doesn’t care that much about. It’d be nice if it were Youngmin or Seonho, but logically speaking, Wanna One would need another vocal to replace Minhyun himself, and having both Cube chicks in the final group would be an overdose of cuteness and cluelessness simultaneously.

 

It’s not like Minhyun gets to choose his replacement so he’s not sure why he’s worrying about this in the first place. He watches Jaehwan and Sungwoon duke it out for main vocal, throwing his weight behind Jaehwan when they ask for his input, and bam, there we go, Jaehwan gets the main vocal position.

 

The rest of the positions fill out similarly, and the majority of practice that day is spent familiarizing themselves with their parts while giving extra help to Hyunbin who’s still struggling vocally, but much less upset and self-conscious than last time. That means he tries everything with such enthusiasm that Minhyun ends up having to call him out for cracking his voice because he’s too excited.

 

Happy is a good look on Hyunbin. Much better than crying on Daniel’s shoulder or sobbing, “But Jonghyun hyung” over and over again.

 

They make decent progress, and Jisung rewards them with a short break. Jaehwan stands to join Minhyun as they walk through the door, only to pause when he sees Sungwoon staying behind, still singing by the piano.

 

“Actually, I think I’ll stay behind,” he says, a determined set to his jaw. “More practice won’t hurt, right?”

 

Minhyun chuckles. “Of course,” he agrees. “Go ahead, I’m going to go find some people.”

 

“Jonghyun?” Jaehwan asks, eyes sharp.

 

“Nope,” Minhyun says, popping the p. “I’m going to visit the other vocal teams.”

 

“Scoping out the competition? Alright, go scout it out and tell me who our biggest threat is going to be when you report back.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Minhyun’s feet take familiar paths in the upstairs area. He can hear the dance teams raucously shouting above some song with a heavy bass, the dancers never content to stop dancing even when no one is forcing them to, even when their feet are ready to give out from under them. He’s familiar with the sight of Jonghyun’s bruises and knows how to wrap a sprained ankle perfectly.

 

He’s not interested in the dance teams now, and no matter how much he may linger by the soundproofed room where he knows Jonghyun is scribbling lyrics and coaching Guanlin, that’s not what he’s here for right now. He keeps walking.

 

 Dongho and Minki are the next room, Minhyun knows, Dongho struggling with sharing power with Sewoon as they disagree over musical choices. Minki knows how to control Dongho, though, and can calm him down if Dongho is on the verge of exploding. Besides, at this point in the game, most viewers are wise enough to catch when Mnet forcibly creates drama. Minhyun will see them later, and he knows they’re perfectly capable of handling themselves. He keeps walking.

 

The room he’s most interested in is at the end of the hallway, packed full of children. Kenta is the oldest of the Spring Day team, but he’s surrounded by bright-eyed (well, in Jinyoung’s case, dark-eyed) youngsters who have the honor of being Produce 101’s youngest contestants.

 

Little Woojin is laughing at some joke that Yongjin has said while Kenta looks at them all fondly. Jinyoung is nowhere to be seen, probably off with Jihoon and Daehwi somewhere. Meanwhile, the person Minhyun’s really here to see, Seonho is-

 

“Hyung!”

 

Seonho bounds up behind him, arms full of water bottles that he presumably fetched for the rest of his teammates. He blinks cutely at Minhyun before dipping into a jerky bow.

 

“Hyung, what are you doing here?” he asks after straightening. He doesn’t immediately move to hug Minhyun, but that’s probably because one, they’re not that close yet, and two, his hands are full of water bottles. Minhyun moves aside to let Seonho into the vocal room where he enthusiastically hands each of his teammates a water bottle. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

 

“We’re taking a break,” Minhyun says. “So I thought I’d come and see what you guys were up to.”

 

“Awww,” Seonho coos as if he’s the older one instead of Minhyun. “You’re so thoughtful!”

 

“Only for you,” Minhyun replies sweetly, entertained as he watches Seonho’s jaw drop. Here, the shock factor doesn’t lie so much in the fact that Minhyun is the one initiating the affection since Seonho dosen’t know of that inside joke this time (yet), but more that Minhyun who has come across as so serious and cold is suddenly teasing Seonho like this.

 

Seonho deserves a little more affection in his life, and this time, Minhyun won’t push him away as strongly.

 

Kenta is watching the going-ons with a look of confused amusement while little Woojin snickers to the side. Youjin is laughing with him, one hand covering his mouth and eyes crinkled.

 

Minhyun claps a dazed Seonho on the shoulder and smiles encouragingly at him. “I look forward to hearing your performance,” he says to the room at large, yet directing most of his gaze to Seonho. “If you have time, come hang out with your hyungs, okay, Seonho and Woojin?”

 

“Of course!” Woojin chirps cheerfully. “Tell the hyungs I say hi!”

 

“Will do.”

 

Seonho still hasn’t said anything, and Minhyun leaves the room like that, snickering quietly to himself. There’s something satisfying about teasing Seonho while the younger is still flat-footed, but Minhyun has no doubt that

 

“What was that?”

 

Minhyun startles when he hears that familiar voice. Dongho is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and chin tilted towards the ground. He raises his head when he sees that Minhyun has noticed him.

 

“You look like a gangster from a movie like that, people will misunderstand,” Minhyun jokes.

 

Dongho pushes himself off the wall and walks over to Minhyun, an easy grin on his face. “That’s my concept, couldn’t you tell? I’m obviously the big bad antagonist who gets scary jungle music every time he shows up on screen.”

 

Minhyun scoffs. “Please. You’re really just a soft and fluffy teddy bear, aren’t you?”

 

Dongho shrugs. “Hey, I’ll be whoever the company wants me to be.” He casts a sidelong glance over his shoulder before turning back to Minhyun and saying, “Though we haven’t really heard anything from the company, have we.”

 

Truthfully, Minhyun doesn’t have any idea what the Pledis executives are thinking at this point in the game. Their popularity has been rising steadily. Every time Minhyun visits an online forum, the number of articles about one of them has increased, and the show is also gaining just as much traction as he remembers. Some companies, he remembers, contacted their trainees throughout the show with suggestions on how to act and behave while others took a completely hands off route.

 

It’s frustrating, to say the least, to know that all of Minhyun’s carefully laid plans don’t matter at all if Pledis messes things up.

 

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know what Pledis planned to do with them after the finale. Contrary to popular belief, a lot of artists don’t know as much as fans think they do, especially if your company is as weak as Pledis is in terms of management. The announcement Pledis made about Nu’est’s fate being up in the air depending on how many members made the group was the same amount of information that Nu’est had. They didn’t get more than that, spending every moment caught between wanting to fight for their debut while also being unsure about their future.

 

Minhyun being the only member in the final group probably wasn’t what anyone expected though, and loathe as he is to admit it, part of Minhyun is curious to know what would have happened if he got to see beyond that final night. He doesn’t trust Pledis in the least, but there’s a chance, just a small chance that things could have worked out, especially with the rise of their old songs on the charts. It might mean something, it might mean nothing, but now, Minhyun will never know.

 

Dongho nudges him. “Hey, what’re you thinking about?”

 

“Nothing,” Minhyun replies automatically, then reconsiders. Dongho deserves better than that, even if he doesn’t know the full extent of Minhyun’s situation the way Jonghyun does. “Just… that there are so many factors out of our control, you know? We can polish our image, make sure we stand out, but everything can go up in smoke once we leave the show. We can’t live in this bubble forever, and I’m just wondering what will happen when it pops.”

 

Dongho is silent, digesting Minhyun’s words for a few seconds before he snorts and nudges Minhyun’s shoulder again, this time more aggressively. “That sounds stupid,” he says bluntly. “You always think too much.” He scratches absently at the stubble starting to blossom on his jawline again as he continues. “Yeah, there’s nothing we can predict for sure, but we shouldn’t worry about that right now. The show isn’t over yet, right? We still have quite some way to go, and like you said, there are so many factors out of our control. Everything can change, even overnight, so let’s just make sure we do as best as we can today.”

 

Minhyun doesn’t bother stifling his smile because Dongho knows him too well, he’d see through that in a heartbeat. Instead, he lets himself smile and drape himself comfortably over Dongho. “Why are you always so smart,” he mumbles.

 

Dongho isn’t normally Minhyun’s cuddle buddy of choice, but Minki is nowhere to be seen right now, and Dongho is here and warm and the perfect height for Minhyun to rest his chin on his shoulder. It’s nice to have this physical contact with someone he trusts explicitly. It hasn’t really been a salient thought, but Minhyun has kept himself so tightly wound throughout this competition that he hasn’t shown any of his normal clinginess. Part of it has to do with the stress that comes from being on a survival show; more of it comes from the fact that he time traveled into the past and didn’t feel like he could trust or rely on anyone but himself.

 

But now, now, he has people around him. He has his Sorry Sorry team, members who love to make fun of one another and casually poke or punch or puppy pile on top of one another during breaks, regardless of whether they’re in the same team or not. Of course, he has his Nu’est members, always has his Nu’est members, and one thing that Minhyun is starting to realize from his first go at this Produce 101 thing is that the show is too short and too fickle for him to care about hiding his relationship with the rest of the members.

 

The first time around, they’d done their best to avoid any undue associations with Nu’est or being already debuted. That meant not referencing previous works, calling each other solely by their real names, and, the hardest one, not seeking each other out or even hanging out too much together. By some stroke of luck, a lot of them ended up on the same teams for various evaluations, but Minhyun can’t recall a moment like this last time, where it was just him and another member casually relishing in the comfort of physical comfort in the open.

 

He’d forgotten how much he needed this.

 

They stay like that for a little while longer before Dongho taps Minhyun’s arms. “Break is almost over, gottta go,” he says apologetically. “Geez, we have so much work to do, we still haven’t even figure out how our chord progressions will go for the stacked harmony in the chorus, and-”

 

“Go ahead, you big bear.” Minhyun shoves himself off Dongho playfully. “Get back to your team and try to work things out, okay? Don’t lose your temper.”

 

“I won’t,” Dongho promises. “Good luck with Downpour too, especially Hyunbin.”

 

“He’s not that bad. He has a lot of promise, and he’s really active about self-improvement.”

 

“That’s good. Well, as long as he knows.”

 

The second Dongho disappears back into the soundproof room, Minhyun starts walking back to his own designated practice room only to be stopped by a giant weight suddenly colliding with his back. He lets out a small _oof_ sound, partly out of surprise and partly out of the actual impact. The weight refuses to move, and arms snake around Minhyun’s torso as he feels a soft cheek rub itself against his neck.

 

Somehow, he has a sneaking suspicion of who this is.

 

“Hyung!” Seonho’s voice sounds delightedly behind him, muffled from where his mouth is pressed against Minhyun’s shirt. Minhyun can feel his warm breath as he tries in vain to untangle himself from 178 centimeters of enthusiastic sixteen-year-old. “I didn’t know you liked skinship too, you seemed so distant before! Wow, you’re, like, the perfect height for me to hug, this is great! Let’s hug all the time from now on, okay?”

 

And, well, Minhyun might not have physically reciprocated Seonho’s love last time, but he’s always been a sucker for puppy dog eyes. What else can he do but agree?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW Seonho appears!!!


	8. Episode 7

7

 

Jaehwan’s vocals herald in the morning of the performance. Minhyun can hear his singing accompanied by his acoustic guitar in their new room. Jaehwan sits on the bottom bunk and strums leisurely while his bright and strong voice cuts through the sleepy atmosphere. No one in the Downpour team can stay asleep with an alarm like that, and they all rouse sleepily. To Minhyun’s amusement, Sungwoon immediately begins harmonizing, singing even before his eyes are fully open.

 

“Whyyyy?” Hyunbin moans pititfully, still not accustomed to idol hours. Jisung chuckles at him and absently tries to pat his head as he passes but only manages to awkwardly paw at his face instead.

 

For all that the atmosphere is generally optimistic in their room, Minhyun feels a deep sense of foreboding in his stomach. It twists, rising and falling as if anxiety can somehow be a living creature with movements and feelings.

 

There’s no reason for Minhyun to feel this way. Practice has been going well, Hyunbin improving expontentially, and they were praised during their brief preview session with the trainers. Things definitely went better for them than other teams as Minhyun has spotted a stressed and nervous Daniel anxiously consulting Seongwoo in low tones in the hallways. Even though Dongho and Sewoon eventually came to a conclusion about how to divide and arrange the parts, they had to get through a rocky beginning.

 

Compared to that, Downpour has been undramatic and unproblematic. Aside from Hyunbin’s weaker singing skills which are easily covered by giving him less and lower parts, no one has had any problems. Minhyun still remembers how tense practice had been the first time around. Hyunbin had been on pins and needles the entire time, barely eating or sleeping, not even leaving the practice room until most of the staff was packed up and ready to leave.

 

He’d been so afraid about how he would come off. The hate comments Hyunbin received for appearing less serious in Sorry Sorry were the first ones he had been exposed to, and they’d clearly shocked him with their vehement and plain-faced hatred. It had taken him a long time to recover from that, and, Minhyun thinks, it’s likely that Hyunbin was still recovering from it during the finale.

 

This Hyunbin doesn’t have that problem though, not when he never had the chance to be less hardworking because the editing focus had been on Minhyun instead. It’s a sacrifice Minhyun is more than willing to make, even if his rank took a hit because of it.

 

With all that said, it’s clear that everything is going better. So why does Minhyun feel so unsettled?

 

“You look like you’re deep in thought,” Jisung says, coming over to where Minhyun is sitting on his bed. “Care to share?”

 

“Mm,” Minhyun hums. Jisung has been taking care of them incredibly well, as befitting someone of his age and maturity. He seems lackadaisical on the outside, all funny one-liners and over the top reactions, but Minhyun sees how he takes care of the younger ones.

 

He didn’t have time to process before the last evaluation, still too shocked by the idea that Jonghyun didn’t make it, but now, thinking of it, he wonders if Jisung would be chosen as leader in that timeline. He’d be a good one. Soft, sensitive, kind. All traits that are sorely lacking in the idol industry.

 

“I’m just nervous,” he settles for saying. “I hope everything goes well.”

 

“Me too,” Jisung agrees. “But don’t worry too much about it. We’ve worked hard, and as BoA would say, hard work never betrays you.”

 

There’s an ironic twist to Jisung’s lips as he says it, and Minhyun’s lips quirk up in response. Both of them know that that statement couldn’t be further than the truth. Years of slaving away in practice rooms, all for that promised debut that might never come, and even if it does, there’s no guarantee that it’ll be successful. Hard work? Hard work is the basic requirement for this career. Everyone works hard, and everyone deserves it, but only some get it. It’s unfair, the way that people can work for years, pour out their sweat, only for other to completely ignore it.

 

But that’s the way the world works.

 

“That wasn’t helpful,” Minhyun tells Jisung. “I think you just made my mood worse.”

 

“Better channel it for the song,” Jisung says. “Now get ready. We have a performance to prepare for.”

 

They arrive at the concert venue and are greeted by a few scattered fans. Security is keeping a close eye on them so they can’t really approach any of the trainees, but all of them have their phones in their hands and greedy expressions on their faces.

 

Some days, Minhyun loves his fans. Other days, not so much.

 

 

 

 

 

Backstage is as hectic as usual, what with sixty boys taking turns getting their makeup and hair done in a complicated rotating system that makes Minhyun’s head spin. They cycle through general base makeup, detailed eyeshadow and eyeliner before finally hitting the hair station. Seongwoo is playfully styling Jaehwan’s hair despite the latter's protests while Daniel looks on and laughs. Guanlin and Seonho are trying to hide the fact that they’re eating snacks by tucking themselves against the wall, but it clearly doesn’t work from the way the staff members are eyeing them nastily.

 

Minhyun wanders over to the other side of the room, careful not to jostle the hair pins carefully holding strands of hair in place while the hair gel sets. Dongho and Minki, some of the firsts to finish the entire routine, are lounging against one another on the couch. Minki looks like an American star, all blond hair and arrogant sunglasses that are dramatic, flashy, over the top, and quintessentially Minki. Dongho isn’t any further behind in terms of looks, with a red choker and bold eyeliner that makes his messily styled hair look intentional rather than accidental.

 

“You both look great,” Minhyun says, sitting next to them. His soft pastels clash with the edgier look that the two are sporting, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to that. “You’re going to do amazing in this performance.” And he knows it. This is when Dongho begins to pick up recognition not just for the edits he’s been getting but also for his amazing vocals that made him Nu’est’s main vocals for all these years. Minki too gets some extra attention for the fact that, well, he gets none in the actual episode. Starting from these concept evaluations, Minhyun knows that their popularity as individuals skyrockets upwards. He can even hazard to say that their previous actions don’t matter as much as whatever they do following the airing of these episodes.

 

Of course, that thought goes double for Minhyun. It applies to him far more than any of the other ones because if he’s going to secure the best outcome for Nu’est in the long run, he’ll have to do something to make himself drop in votes. He knows that for sure.

 

What he’s going to do is another matter. Minhyun still has no idea what he’s going to do to make himself drop in the ranks without causing too much backlash. Maybe he can just shut up and stop talking for a few episodes?

 

It’s a problem to consider later, though Minhyun is fully aware that the longer he puts it off, the more drastic his later action will have to be.

 

“Minhyun! Hwang Minhyun!” A stylist calls from somewhere in the crowded dressing room. “Hwang Minhyun, come here, I need to fix your hair!”

 

“Coming!” he calls. Making his way over, he mutters apologies to the trainees whose feet he accidentally steps on. As soon as he sits down in front of a mirror, the stylist deftly removes the hair pins and begins curling his hair with a brush, making sure every strand stays in place.

 

She finishes placing the last delicate strand, and a harried staff member bursts into the room wearing a headset pulled down around his ears.

 

“Standby! Trainees to the waiting rooms, the audience is entering now!” he bellows. Everyone bursts into action as soon as he finishes, stylists hustling the trainees out and the trainees grabbing any water bottles they can before they’re literally shoved out the door.

 

It seems that everything happens all at once after that. The rap teams are ushered out with little fanfare from the stone-faced staff though the other trainees cheer loudly for them. Minhyun is able to shoot Jonghyun’s pale face a reassuringly smile, and he mouths, “good luck” just before Jonghyun leaves the waiting room.

 

Boys and Girls goes first, then Rhythmn Ta, and I’m Not the Person You Used to Know follows right after. Performances play out much the same way they do the first time around, with the Show Me the Money Team easily stealing the show, their raps loud and aggressive, boastful and confident, just like real rappers.

 

When the Fear team takes to the stage, Minhyun draws in a deep breath. Jonghyun looks good, of course, dressed in all black with that choker around his neck. Minhyun hadn’t told him anything before the performance even though Jonghyun had drawn him out into the hallway for a bit of a private talk, asking if he’d perform alright. Really, the two mistakes he made were negligible and barely noticeable, and his genuine reaction had only served to make people like him more. He’ll be fine for this performance.

 

Minhyun watches as they take their place on stage, silent figures. He can feel the heavy and expectant atmosphere through the screen. Everyone knows what song they’re performing, everyone knows what the original song stood for. Jonghyun was always a better dancer than he was a rapper, but as Nu’est took the reins more and more in producing and writing their own songs (some of it because Pledis simply refused to lend more resources than they had to to a failed group), Jonghun had grown to love and appreciate rap. Minhyun still remembers how Jonghyun had confided to him one night that writing lyrics made him feel a little bit less like a coward, even if no one would ever hear them.

 

Well, now Jonghyun has the chance to share them with everyone, ironically, in a stage where fear takes center stage.

 

Minhyun can’t think of a better performance for everyone to recognize how much Jonghyun has gone through.

 

The stage begins, lighting dramatic and lighting up Guanlin’s heavily lined eyes. He looks much more mature like this, dressed in all black while staring intensely into the camera. For all that he lacks in experience and practice, Guanlin knows how to catch the camera, and his eye contact is as good as a seasoned idol’s. Admittedly, his looks help him when a crutch is needed.

 

Once he’s done admiring Guanlin’s expertise maneuvering on the stage, Minhyun has to stifle a slight grin at the younger’s lyrics. Rapping about how he wants to eat, sleep, and watch whatever he wants is something only Guanlin would do, but it lends the performance sincerity and heart. The other trainees in the waiting room exclaim over how much his pronunciation has improved and how different he seems, but only Minhyun knows how much more he’ll grow by the time the show is over.

 

Guanlin circles back to the sofa, and Minhyun leans forward a little. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Minki biting his lip and Dongho crossing his arms defensively before remembering the cameras and lowering them. Time seems to slow down as Jonghyun lifts the microphone to his lips.

 

Honestly, Minhyun shouldn’t be worrying. He doesn’t know where this heavy feeling has come from, but he does know there’s no basis for it. None of the Nu’est members made mistakes in their performances this time around, and seeing as Minhyun isn’t in the same group as any of them, there’s no reason to think that things will change. Still, Minhyun feels his heartbeat quicken as Jonghyun stares straight into the camera and begins his rap.

 

 _Honestly, I have so much fear,_ Jonghyun begins. He seems in control, eyes serious and heavy, and Minhyun relaxes fractionally. _I was afraid of coming to this place._

For a moment, Minhyun is able to draw in a breath, sure that everything is fine, but Jonghyun’s next line changes everything.

_The clock is ticking backwards, and it’s telling us reset,_ Jonghyun raps somberly. _But the thing I’m most afraid of is holding onto our regrets._

Minhyun’s head is whirling, even as he senses the rest of the Sorry Sorry Team 2 members glancing at him. This isn’t what Jonghyun showed in front of the rap trainers, he knows because he had helped Jonghyun go through the first draft of his lyrics. They had been similar to the final ones he had revealed the first time around, but this is completely different. This is also almost certainly a reference to Minhyun.

_I know the taste of fear, of confessing to your crime,_ Jonghyun continues. _But the only crime committed is that we don’t have enough time._

Minhyun swallows hard. He can’t tear his eyes away from Jonghyun. Even through the monitor screen, Jonghyun is standing tall and firm. He’s looking straight into the camera, gaze unwavering as he delivers his lines with precision. This is Jonghyun’s message to him.

_“The burden’s getting heavier, even if my head is without crown_

_Don’t listen to the hatred, whether inside you or the crowd_

_I know the thoughts inside your heads, they’re inside mine as well_

_The fear is crawling out of me, yeah, everyone can tell_

_But we’re fighting for our right to live and stand on stage with pride_

_So I have one thing to say to the people by my side:_

_Yeah, don’t worry”_

They go into the chorus, but Minhyun isn’t listening anymore. His head is spinning, and his hands are shaking. Somewhere to his right, Dongho and Minki have their arms around one another, and the trainees are exclaiming about how those weren’t the prepared lyrics, wondering if he freestyled them. Some of them are crying.

 

This isn’t a freestyle. This isn’t something that Jonghyun came up with on the spot. This is a carefully crafted statement. It’s everything he wanted to tell Minhyun, understanding and promise all in one.

 

A distant, analytical part of Minhyun is admiring Jonghyun’s mastery of words, the way he used time as a metaphor to convey his pain and the uncertainty of performing on Produce 101. In that sense, his rap carries the same message as his original. But Minhyun knows that this isn’t just about overcoming your fear. Jonghyun is telling Minhyun that he knows him, that he sees, him, and that he’s there for him.

 

He’s still performing, rapping through the choruses as Moonbok and Taemin deliver their verses on stage. Every word is enunciated with the raspy tone that JR was known for in Nu’est, intensity dripping from every syllable, but this is bigger than just a rap performance.

 

Later, Minhyun will watch as Jonghyun is pulled aside for his individual interview. He’ll stand to the side and watch as Jonghyun speak. He’ll listen to Jonghyun speak on the performance, on placing first in the rap category, but most of all, when the staff asks Jonghyun why he changed the lyrics the night before the performance, Minhyun will _hear_ Jonghyun.

 

And Jonghyun will say, “Looking at the past and facing failure is scary. It makes me afraid. I think it’s because I realize how many mistakes I’ve made and how much I could have changed if I had the chance to go and do it all again. But I rewrote the lyrics this way because I realized that the past isn’t something you can run from or something you can pretend didn’t happen. Even if no one knows what you’ve gone through yet, what you know and what you’ve experienced shows on your face. I wanted to reassure everyone who’s been with me and the rest of my trainee friends that the past isn’t our future, so matter how much it may seem set in stone. Anything can change. That’s the heart I wrote these lyrics with.”

 

And in that moment, Minhyun will realize that the tiny cardboard corner is too small to contain Jonghyun, his largeness, his bravery, and everything that he is.

 

All that comes later. For now, Minhyun buries his face his hands and tries not to cry.

 

He succeeds, for the most part. None of his makeup gets ruined because no tears fall, and even if Jisung exclaims worriedly over his red eyes, Minhyun’s voice is firm and his footsteps steady when the vocal groups are called to standby.

 

On their way to the room, Dongho and Minki surreptitiously drop back from their team to walk with Minhyun. The rest of Minhyun’s team catches the cue quickly and walk faster, catching up with Sewoon and Daehwi and chat loudly, giving the Nu’est members a bit of privacy.

 

“How are you doing?” Minki asks. Minhyun wants to laugh because if anything, he should be one asking Minki that question. Minki’s eyes might be covered by the obnoxiously large sunglasses that he personally brought for this performance, but his sniffles and constant throat clearing are enough to let Minhyun know how Minki’s feeling.

 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Really, I am,” he adds at the dubious look Dongho gives him. “I was just surprised that he did that.”

 

“Me too, talk about a surprise.” Dongho chimes in. “I knew he was good at rap lyrics but I didn’t think he was good enough to change everything in one night and then do it perfectly. Guess I underestimated him.”

 

“He must have thought about it a lot,” Minki says thoughtfully. “I feel like the first version was more talking about himself and his specific fears. This felt a lot more targeted, like, like-”

 

“Like it was a message to us,” Dongho finishes. He scratches the back of his head absently, letting out a snort. “Damn. Guess we really can’t screw up now.”

 

“Where you planning to?” Minki shoots back.

 

“Of course not!”

 

“Are you sure? Because there’d be no need to say that if you were-”

 

“Now you’re just saying that on purpose-”

 

“Calm down!” Minhyun interjects, laughing. The two stop their practiced bickering, turning to Minhyun at once.

 

“What about you? What do you think?” Minki asks. “None of that ‘I’m fine’ stuff you usually say. Your honest feelings this time.”

 

Minhyun thinks about it a little, steps slowing.

 

Inexplicably, the heavy feeling from this morning is gone. Minhyun feels lighter than he has in a long time, but not detached and distanced. Rather, he feels settled and comfortable in his own skin, something unexplainable swelling inside of him and making him feel full and satisfied.

 

“I’m fine,” Minhyun says, and for the first time in a long time, he means it.

 

They take their seats in the waiting room, and Seonho leaps from his own to run over and give Minhyun a hug before taking his seat again without a word. Minhyun is too surprised to do anything in the moment, but he sends Seonho an appreciative smile that the younger acknowledges with his own.

 

Jaehwan nudges Minhyun’s shoulder. “What was that?” he whispers, eyes darting from side to side in case he’s overheard. “The rap… was it like that last time?”

 

“No,” Minhyun replies, eyes trained on the screen as the If It Was You team takes their place. “But it doesn’t matter. He said what he wanted to say.”

 

Jaehwan whistles lowly. “That’s impressive,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think Jonghyun could be more… more, I don’t know the right word for it, but just _more._ He really is though.”

 

“Yeah. He is.”

 

The vocal performances pass mostly without incident, even though everybody winces sympathetically at little Woojin’s unfortunate voice crack. The vocal trainers should have known to lower the note for a kid whose voice was still developing, but their insistence that he could just push it out led to this. Woojin is clearly disappointed, but when he comes back in, everyone congratulates and compliments him, and his face lights up a little again.

 

“Downpour, to stage!” a staff member calls.

 

Minhyun rises alongside the rest of his team members, straightening his pastel pink sweater and pants as they walk to the stage. Hyunbin is nervously chanting under his breath- or at least that’s what it sounds like until Minhyun realizes that he’s reciting his lines.

 

“You’ll be fine,” he reassures him. “Let’s all cheer up and do this!”

 

They walk onto the stage accompanied by deafening cheers, and once they take their positions, Leeteuk asks some general questions that his team members easily answer. While they’re busy with that, Minhyun takes a moment to look around him.

 

He’s on stage, towering above the ground. Hands reach out, grasping for empty air as if they can somehow capture the light shining onto the stage and keep it for themselves. They don’t stop screaming, and desperation and blind adoration are written on each of their faces. Colored banners dangle from lifted arms, the faces of the people Minhyun has come to know as his friends and companions printed on each one.

 

He’s on stage, and to his side, Sungwoon is still. His years as an idol shine through as he stands steady with his microphone clutched securely in both hands. Hyunbin is shaking imperceptibly, and Jisung is handling Leeteuk’s questions with grace and humor as Jaehwan nods along, occasionally injecting a dry comment that makes the MC chuckle. They’re given a cue, and they all walk to their places, climbing onto the elevated light boxes as the lights go down.

 

He’s on stage, and as Minhyun stares out, he suddenly sees how empty and dark the space between the stage and the audience is. Jonghyun’s voice comes to him, all raspy and reassuring warmth.

 

_Don’t worry._

 

The lights come back on, and Minhyun smiles.

 

 

 

 

 

As soon as they’re backstage, Hyunbin throws himself into Minhyun’s arms.

 

“Hyuuuuung!” he bawls pitifully, and then he’s full-on sobbing on Minhyun’s shoulders, getting his tears and snot all over Minhyun’s carefully put together outfit.

 

Minhyun indulges him with a laugh, hands coming up to caress Hyunbin’s back as comfortingly as he can manage without losing his balance and tipping over.

 

“Why are you crying, Hyunbin?” he asks gently. “You did so well, we all did. It was truly a great performance.”

 

“I-I’m not crying because I’m s-sad,” Hyunbin blubbers inelegantly. Looking at him now, Minhyun can’t imagine that this overgrown puppy is the same person that models for high fashion brands. He’s just Hyunbin, soft and emotional. “I’m crying because I’m _touched._ I have so many _feelings,_ hyung!”

 

“There, there,” Minhyun soothes. He shoots Jisung a panicked look when he passes by, but the older just snickers and holds his hands up before shuffling past. “I think we all feel the same way, even if you didn’t say what there, er, feelings were, exactly.”

 

“ _So many,_ ” Hyunbin repeats. He’s calmed down now but still clings to Minhyun as they make their way back to the waiting room where they’re greeted by a round of applause from the other trainees.

 

Seonho leaps at him with a wail of, “Hyung, I cried! I cried so hard!” while Daehwi chimes in with, “He did, he really did, he made _me_ cry too-” and Seonho talks over him again, saying, “You sang so well! Your tone is so pretty, and I wanted to cry- oh wait, I did cry- well, you made me cry!”

 

Eunki is still fanning away his tears with the generous help of his teammates, and Minhyun can see other trainees trying to discreetly wipe their tears away. Some succeed, but most of them fail. Daniel is laughing at Jaehwan who scowls when Daniel points out his teary eyes, slapping on him the arm and muttering, “At least I hit the high note, you rappers wish you could sing half as well as me.”

 

“We should probably sit,” Jisung says, the corner of his lip pulling up as if he wasn’t barely holding onto his own composure. “It looks like we’ve caused quite a bit of disturbance.”

 

Seonho reminds Minhyun of a baby koala because he refuses to let go even as Minhyun tries to find his seat. Maneuvering two bodies, one of them being taller and heavier and limper than his own, is no easy task, but Minhyun eventually manages to deposit Seonho in the seat next to him where the younger immediately snuggles up to him. Minhyun is about to push him away when he catches the faint tremble in the younger’s lip and relents. It can’t hurt, and besides, Seonho is adorable. Minhyun wants to pet his head. In fact, he’s pretty sure Seonho would enjoy that.

 

The buoyant feeling doesn’t wear off, though it does dim a bit once the Get Ugly team gets on stage and has to get off again as staff tries to calm down some of the more frustrated audience members. When they finally get to perform, Minhyun allows himself to enjoy their performance and oohs and aahs with everyone else. He makes sure to congratulate Woojin on the great performance when they come back in, watching the younger’s face light up with a shy smile that shows off his trademark snaggletooth. He also makes sure to clap Daniel on the back, and Daniel shakes off his dejected expression to smile and gush about Minhyun’s vocals, a compliment Minhyun returns about Daniel’s dancing.

 

Seongwoo lingers by his chair, and after a moment of hesitation, leans down to whisper into Minhyun’s ear. “Seems like Jonghyun had something he wanted to tell you,” he says. “Did you get it?”

 

For all that he acts arrogant and funny, Seongwoo is surprisingly softhearted when it comes to his friends.

 

Minhyun smiles. He’s probably smiled more times this evening than he has this entire program combined. He used to smile like this all the time in Nu’est, even if their albums didn’t break into the charts or if no fans showed up to their fanmeets because even if success was a dream, he’d had his brothers beside him.

 

Minhyun catches Jonghyun’s eye. Jonghyun startles a little before his entire body relaxes, shoulders slumping into gentle slopes as they smile each other. Sitting in this waiting room, surrounded by the chatter of sixty trainees, Seongwoo’s hot breath against his ear, and Jonghyun’s grin aimed at him, Minhyun realizes that his brothers are still beside him.

 

Live ranking announcements go by in a blur. Minhyun is strangely calm as the ranks go up team by team, and Jonghyun takes the top spot by a wider margin than he did last time. This time, he doesn’t look guilty or filled with regret about making mistakes. Instead, his eyes are shining and bright, and he looks happy.

 

Gunhee has his moment of fame when he takes the top vocal position, and Minhyun casts Jaehwan a reassuring glance when he sees the other’s disappointed expression. Leaning over, he whispers, “This is how it should be,” and pulls back immediately after. Jaehwan only stares after him for a brief second before nodding and looking forward, jaw set. Knowing him, Jaehwan will only fight for the main vocal part even harder after this.

 

Taehyun predictably freaks out when he sees that he’s managed to hold onto the first position for dance, and he gets a deserved round of applause from the rest of the trainees. Minhyun can see Sungwoon’s proud grin from miles away, and he’s reminded of how Taehyun had sobbed as he hugged Sungwoon on stage after the finale, the two jumping up and down as they celebrated Sungwoon’s top eleven finish.

 

At the time, Minhyun had been too sorrowful to even look at the other top eleven finishers, and when he’d thought of Sungwoon he’d only felt bitterness at the fact that the older was there instead of Jonghyun. Even though it hadn’t made sense (Jonghyun’s fourteenth place meant that it wasn’t Sungwoon’s fault, but _still-_ ), Minhyun hadn’t been able to stop his surge of anger.

 

But Sungwoon has gone through the same thing Nu’est did, debuting with the promise of success only to find failure at every turn. It must’ve seemed like an impossible dream for either of the Hotshot members to get into the top eleven when they consistently placed in the twenties, and even the moment when Sungwoon had placed third in the second-to-last rankings must have felt like a dream destined to end.

 

How much would they have worked and sweated just for the chance to stand on stage?

 

There’s no way Minhyun can begrudge them that happiness now. In fact, he’d happily give his place to Taehyun for the chance to reunite with his Nu’est members.

 

Celebrations at the venue are short-lived, and by the time the trainees are back at their dorms, it’s already past midnight. Hyunbin crashes almost immediately, collapsing onto his mattress and not stirring even when Jisung prods him. None of them have the heart to wake the slumbering giant, so they let him sleep even as Jisung gets a damp makeup removal sheet to wipe off what makeup he can. Jaehwan is quick to follow Hyunbin into sleep, and Jisung jokes about his “old bones needing rest” before heading to bed as well. Sungwoon is nowhere to be seen, presumably still celebrating with Taehyun somewhere else.

 

A faint buzz is running through Minhyun’s body, one that doesn’t let him close his eyes even as he sits on his mattress in his pajamas. Instead, he rises and makes his way around Hyunbin’s sprawled out limbs, grabbing his jacket as he goes. He closes the door softly behind him, making sure the lights are shut, and pads down the hallway.

 

The main door leading to the outside is locked, so Minhyun makes a wide circle before finding a door that lets him exit from the back of the building. He steps outside, socked feet landing gently against the concrete and grass. It’s not that chilly, the cold February weather traded in for faint May breezes. Minhyun throws on his jacket anyway, not wanting to risk catching a cold at such a critical time.

 

He hasn’t stood outside for that long, maybe ten minutes, when he hears the door creak open and someone come up beside him. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know who it is.

 

“It’s a nice night,” Jonghyun comments. He’s not wearing a jacket, clad in only his preferred long sleeves. It’s warm enough to without, but Minhyun moves to take off his jacket anyway, Jonghyun refusing and gesturing at his long sleeves in answer. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Minhyun confesses. “Thought I’d come outside to clear my head for a bit.”

 

“Same here,” Jonghyun says. “I noticed that the stars were really bright when we were heading in, so I wanted to take a longer look at them before they went away.”

 

They lapse into familiar silence, the low coos of nighttime birds and the soft rustle of the breeze wrapping around them. The stars are exceedingly pretty tonight, Minhyun notices. They’re pinpricks in a blanket held against a lamp and shining through. The moon is a half shadow, dangling in the center of the sky like a pendant on a necklace. It’s peaceful out here, just the two of them staring into the night sky without saying anything.

 

“Did you like my rap today?”

 

Jonghyun’s voice doesn’t feel out of place at all. Instead of breaking the silence, it slots in nicely and flows with the wind as it blows the bangs out of Minhyun’s eyes.

 

Minhyun says, “I did,” but what he really means is _I heard you. Thank you._

Jonghyun answers, “That’s good,” but his soft smile reads, _I’m glad you understood._

 

Standing like that, they’re just two boys under the vast and dark sky. Minhyun knows they’ll have to go back in eventually, and there’s still so much to consider and so many things to take care of. For now, though, he doesn’t worry about any of that. He stands with Jonghyun, and they watch the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, ignore the fact that the new rap rhymes in English. anyway, this was a fun chapter to write, probably my favorite one so far. enjoy the fluff while it lasts.


	9. Episode 8

8

 

Before Minhyun knows it, they’re already more than halfway through the show. Concept evaluations seem to arrive before he can even blink, and he’s suddenly packing his bags to move into yet another dorm room.

 

“This was a good team,” Jisung comments as he tries to fit some of his overlarge clothes into his suitcase. “I’m glad I had the chance to work with you all.”

 

“Same here, hyung!” Hyunbin chirps. The model is struggling the most out of all of them, barely making a dent in his small mountain of clothes even as he continues stuffing them away. “But I’m excited to see what happens for our concept evaluations and find out what songs we got!”

 

Minhyun chuckles and moves to crouch next to Hyunbin. He quickly and efficiently begins folding the clothes, hands going through practiced motions. Even Hyunbin’s alarming amount of clothes can’t compare to the days when Minhyun had to sort through five boys’ laundry piles by himself and fold them. It was useless even when the other members tried to fold their own clothes because Minhyun would inevitably become fed up by their messy folds and inconsistent stacking, pushing his members aside to fold the clothes himself.

 

Before long, the mountain has been reduced to a hill, then to flat land, and finally, Hyunbin’s clothes are neatly stored away in his various suitcases. Hyunbin and Jisung gape at him, Hyunbin with awe and wonder and Jisung with an impressed look. Jaehwan, meanwhile, just brushes past with his own suitcases in hand and a muttered, “what a mom” under his breath. He clearly means it as an insult, but the small smile on his face gives it away as an endearment instead.

 

“Don’t be like that, Jaehwan,” Minhyun teases. “You appreciate my mom skills.”

 

“Yeah, it’s thanks to you that I wasn’t living in a pigsty all these weeks,” Jaehwan concedes. “I’m gonna miss your mom skills.”

 

“What makes you think you aren’t going to have them anymore?”

 

Jaehwan quirks an eyebrow. “Uh… the fact that we’re moving rooms, or did you miss that while packing for the apocalypse with Goblin here?” he asks, aiming a well-meaning kick at Hyunbin who yelps, partially in response to the kick and partially in response to Jaehwan’s refence to YGK+’s overdramatic entrance during the company exams.  

 

“Who knows, we might be on the same team again,” Minhyun hums.

 

Casting a skeptical look at Minhyun, Jaehwan stares at him for a moment before snorting. “You think?”

 

“I have a feeling.”

 

For a second, they just stare at each other before Jaehwan drops his gaze. He sweeps past them and out the room, muttering something under his breath about “freaky future powers.” Minhyun just smirks.

 

Jaehwan’s latent acerbic nature isn’t new to him, especially as it came out more in the latter stages of the show, but Minhyn has been introduced to it in heavies doses this time around, likely stemming from the fact that Jaehwan never felt the need to play nice around Minhyun this time. It’s refreshing, and Minhyun wouldn’t trade Jaehwan for anyone.

 

 They cram into one of the many black vans parked in front of their dorms, and Minhyun somehow ends up in the backseat _again,_ squished between Sungwoon and Jisung. Why the three oldest members are crammed together in the back while the younger ones stretch their legs and chat away obliviously in the front, Minhyun has no idea. Where is the justice in the world. Where.

 

At any rate, the van arrives at the filming site before long, and Minhyun spends several moments greeting his friends who act like they haven’t seen him in years, when, in reality, they saw each other just a few days ago. Seonho hops on him like an overexcited puppy and throws his long arms around Minhyun’s neck while Guanlin watches on amusedly before he’s drawn to the side by Dongho.

 

“Hyuuuung,” Seonho whines into Minhyun’s ear. “I missed you!”

 

“It’s been two days, Seonho.” Minhyun puts on an affronted air but reaches back to stroke Seonho’s head anyway.

 

“Don’t care,” Seonho says, still stubbornly clinging to Minhyun. “I like you, hyung.”

 

Seonho is really too pure for this, Minhyun thinks, half exasperation, half fondness. He’s not sure if he means “this” as in Produce 101 or the idol industry in general, but either way, he can still remember the younger coming straight to hug him after the finale when he should’ve been celebrating for Guanlin or crying with the other eliminated trainees. Instead, he did neither and just hugged Minhyun. For all his youth and lack of experience, Seonho is really quite astute when it comes to other people’s feelings.

 

“I like you too, Seonho,” Minhyun replies. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to tell that Seonho’s eyes have lit up at the compliment, and he can feel Seonho’s happiness radiating by the way he squeezes Minhyun just a bit harder. “But we have to go inside the auditorium for filming now so you should let go for now, okay?”

 

“Aw…” Seonho gives a dejected groan by relents and unwraps himself from Minhyun.

 

Minhyun takes a moment to readjust his clothes and massage his throat, which is slightly sore from Seonho’s overenthusiastic ministrations, but gives the younger boy a warm smile anyway. “Let’s head inside,” he suggests at large. “Time to see what’s in store for us next.”

 

The auditorium is larger than he remembers, but that probably has more to do with the dwindling number of trainees rather than its actual size. Minhyun takes a seat somewhere in the middle and keeps a careful eye on the people he cares about.

 

Jonghyun seems to be in good spirits, chatting happily with Youngmin while Donghyun smiles at the side. Dongho is laughing with Guanlin, throwing an arm over the younger boy’s shoulder protectively while Guanlin smiles a smile that shows off his gums. Minki is surrounded by his adoring fanclub, Jihoon and Jinyoung chief among them as he seems to show them different styles of aegyo.

 

There’s a whump from the seat next to him as someone deposits themselves heavily. Minhyun turns his head, raising an eyebrow when he sees Daniel grinning cheekily at him. He hears another whump from his other side, and sure enough, Seongwoo is on his other side.

 

“What’re you guys up to now,” he says resignedly.

 

“Nothing much,” Seongwoo says innocently. “We just wanted to come sit by you, right, Daniel?”

 

“Yeah, what’s wrong with sitting next to our favorite teammate?” Daniel asks, elbowing Minhyun not-so-gently in the ribs. “Especially since we weren’t on the same team last time.”

 

“Don’t lie, your favorite teammates are one another,” Minhyun fires back.

 

Daniel just shrugs. “Honestly, we’ll probably all be on the same team this time too, right? I looked it up online; everyone says Never is the best song.”

 

“Of course, it doesn’t mean we’ll automatically end up there, but it seems likely,” Seongwoo chimes in. “Especially with Niel’s rising popularity here.”

 

“Heeey, you’re the one who’s been holding steady at your position-”

 

“No, but your rank just keeps on rising without end in sight-”

 

“You have more male fans-”

 

“But you grab all the hearts of the noona fans, don’t you-”

 

Their strangely playful bickering slowly fades into the distance as Minhyun stares. Wait a minute.

 

Did Daniel sit here last time?

 

No, Daniel did not sit here last time because Minhyun distinctly remembers his dejected expression as he sat near the sides when he was called out for the cheating incident with the emojis. In fact, Daniel had spent that entire week in a depressed funk as he struggled to deal with the consequences of his actions.

 

This brightly smiling version of Daniel that’s relentlessly teasing Seongwoo is a far cry from that.

 

Come to think of it, Minhyun hasn’t heard anything about cheating incidents this time. Maybe he’s been too preoccupied with the whole, you know, traveling back from the future thing, but he can’t imagine that something this big would’ve slipped by him, especially since Daniel’s new ranking sits pretty on his shirt at number 2. Minhyun can’t imagine that Daniel would act so nonchalantly if he knew he was about to face punishment on national TV, nor would the other trainees let it slip by since Daniel’s high rank was at odds with his desperate actions.

 

“Hey, Daniel.”

 

Daniel and Seongwoo stop their weird flirting argument thing and turn to him at the same time. It’s even creepier in person than in the gifs on the Internet, but Minhyun shakes it off.

 

“What is it?” Daniel asks. Minhyun searches his face carefully for any signs of unease or guilt, but Daniel’s guileless expression doesn’t reveal anything of the kind.

 

He asks, “Did you ever do the thing, you know, with four cats?”

 

Four cats had become a thinly veiled reference to Daniel’s cheating in the first timeline, and while many had seen it as endearing or even amusing that Daniel ended up getting first because of his penalty, there had also been many who were dissatisfied at the result. If Daniel had done the same thing this time, there was no way he wouldn’t get the reference.

 

Instead, Daniel says, “Hyung, I only have two cats, not four. I know the meme is that I’m a cat-lover, but four cats is a bit too hard to manage on a trainee schedule, don’t you think?”

 

Huh?

 

“I didn’t mean your actual cats-”

 

“What did you mean then?”

 

Try as he might, Minhyun just can’t find any telltale signs of fear or guilt on Daniel’s face. Seongwoo shifts next to him, becoming wary as they both start to notice Minhyun’s unease.

 

“What is it?” Seongwoo asks. “Say it straight, both of us know your secret anyway.”

 

“Well…” Minhyun dithers. He can’t help it. It’s not like he can just come out and say, “Hey, Daniel, last time you cheated to get the song you wanted, got banned from the song, and then had to apologize in front of everyone for something you actually did wrong. Did you do the same thing this time?”

 

“What? No, I didn’t.”

 

Wait. Minhyun looks up and sees both Daniel and Seongwoo staring at him in shock.

 

“Did I really do that?” Daniel asks, a stricken expression on his face. “I cheated?”

 

“Did I say all that out loud?” Minhyun asks, also in shock. “I thought that was all in my head.”

 

“It wasn’t,” Seongwoo says dryly. “You said it, loud and clear.”

 

“Oh,” Minhyun says lamely. He must really be slipping is he let all that escape. There’s no choice now but to follow through. “So?”

 

Daniel scratches the back of his head sheepishly, still a little shocked. “Honestly… I thought about it,” he admits. “I read some comments that told me to change the number of cat emojis in my Instagram bio to the number of the song I wanted, and I guess I thought that that wasn’t technically cheating since I wasn’t communicating directly to the fans, but in the end, something just didn’t feel right about it. So I left it the way it was.”

 

“Huh.” Minhyun has to take a moment to process that. “You didn’t think like that last time. What changed?”

 

“Well…” Daniel looks a bit embarrassed now, turning his face away from Minhyun. “Maybe it was you.”

 

“Huh?” Minhyun reels before he catches himself. “What’s with that line. Are we in a drama or something like that?” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. He fails when he sees the serious expression Daniel fixes him with.

 

“I think that if we didn’t talk it out that one time in the practice room, I might have done it,” Daniel admits. “But then you said you came from the future, and after I believed you, I saw how hard you were working because you had so many regrets. I thought to myself that I really didn’t want – sorry, I don’t mean this in a bad way- I thought that I didn’t want to have any regrets in my time on this program, and I know that if I cheated like that to get the song I wanted, I’d definitely regret it. So I didn’t.”

 

Minhyun is stunned. He opens his mouth and closes it, then opens it again and closes it again. This isn’t what he expected of all. Of all the changes that Minhyun thought he might see on his retry of this program, he didn’t expect for this to be one. There was a reason he didn’t warn Daniel about his upcoming scandal. Yes, part of it was because he didn’t think that anything would change outside of his direct actions, but also because Minhyun knew that things would work out for Daniel this way. After all, being on Open Up helped spur Daniel’s rise in popularity.

 

Now what? Daniel will probably end up in Never, and there will be one less spot from a song that didn’t have a single elimination from the second elimination. Daniel is a rapper, and Jonghyun’s parts are as little as they are already. They’ll lose somebody, but that also means that someone who was previously on the team might be pushed out. Nation’s Sons was considered the second legendary team after Sorry Sorry Team 2, and this has thrown all that into disarray.

 

On one level, Minhyun is worried because he knows how much Daniel’s popularity skyrockets after his performance in Open Up, especially his individual fancam. He also gets the chance to show off his vocals in that performance rather than rap, thus strengthening his reputation as an all-rounder even more. All in all, no one can argue that the cheating scandal actually helped Dnaiel more than it hurt him, so this might be a bad thing after all. Oh, Minhyun has no doubt that Daniel will make the final group no matter what- how could the number one seat from last fall out of the top eleven completely?- but no, that’s what everyone thought about Jonghyun. There’s no way to predict how this will turn out.

 

On another level, though, Minhyun has to privately admit to himself that maybe he doesn’t want more competition on Never. Not for himself since this is the first time they’re not competing against their own group members, but for Jonghyun. Jonghyun’s part had come to a total of four seconds last time, even as the others protested and tried to give him their parts, which he had characteristically refused. He almost wishes that Daniel had still cheated.

 

It’s selfish, wishing that sort of misfortune on another friend, but he can’t help it. If there’s one thing that Minhyun has learned since he came back, it’s that nothing places above Nu’est in priority for him. Nothing.

 

There’s no time to think further as BoA enters and greets them all cheerfully. The roar the trainees give is even louder than previous times despite their dwindling numbers. Perhaps everyone is sensing the nerves that come from an upcoming elimination, desperate to cover their tension with loud shouts and cheers instead.

 

When everyone settles down, BoA announces the concept evaluation stage and begins revealing the original songs in full for the first time. Well, frst time for everyone else, Minhyun has heard these all so many times he almost wants to puke when he hears them again. It’s still not to the extent of the vitriol he feels for “Nayana” though, so that’s a blessing.

 

The trainees all ooh and ahh over the songs, chattering with nervousness as they try to predict which song they were assigned to versus which song they actually want. Minhyun can’t stop his leg from bouncing nervously. Even before songs have been assigned, something has fallen outside of his expectations, and he has to recalibrate.

 

As soon as BoA begins calling trainees up to receive their individual cards, everyone tenses up. Minhyun holds his breath as Dongho, Jonghyun, and Minki are called, watching their expressions closely. Not that it would tell him anything; after all, the cards only have the letter of the room they’re assigned to.

 

“Ong Seongwoo.”

 

Seongwoo gets up and makes his way to the front of his seat. He takes his envelope, opens it, and bows gracefully before leaving. Minhyun watches as Jaehwan is called right after and then Daniel. Before long, he’s also called, and he walks to stage as steadily as his legs will allow.

 

He can’t remember what letter he’s supposed to have on his envelope. Accepting it from BoA with trembling fingers, Minhyun opens and stares at it blankly. It’s no use. He can’t remember. All he can do is follow the staff when they lead him to his assigned room, and when he sees the faces of his team members, his eyes widen.

 

 

 

 

 

Entrances for the second eliminations are just as over the top as the first ones, even as Minhyun notices that company numbers have dwindled. People who came in before in groups come in ones or twos, and some company names don’t flash on the screen again at all. Minhyun comes in, standing with the rest of his members in full view of the cameras for the first time since the last elimination. He knows its for the better that people don’t assume that they’re always together, but it’s kind of lonely. The only time Nu’est can come together is right before eliminations. That’s more than a little ironic.

 

He settles comfortably with his brothers on either side of him and watches. There are plenty of amusing entrances that he lets himself laugh out loud at, and MMO’s entrance makes him smile when Jisung and Daniel make Jinwoo the center of their entrance. He’s gotten close to Jinwoo in the past few days. The older has a steady and calm voice that his personality compliments, and it’s a pity that his character hasn’t been deemed exciting enough for the editors to focus on.

 

After the last eliminations, Minhyun had tried to write down the ranks of everyone he remembered at this stage which is an unfortunately small number. There’s no telling how things might have changed again, and he’s keeping an especially careful eye on Daniel. His rank dropped from 2 to 8 last time as a result of backlash, but there’s nothing to receive backlash this time. It’s not a stretch to imagine that he might have overtaken Jonghyun as this round’s number one.

 

Hyunbin isn’t called at 34 like last time. With a relatively clean sheet and an endearing image, Minhyun supposes that model can be counted among the F class trainees that lack more in skill but make up for it in their image, alongside Bae Jinyoung and Guanlin and Seonho.

 

Minhyun doesn’t expect anyone from Nu’est or Sorry Sorry Team 2 to be called up for a while yet. The first time Pledis gets called is at 21, and it’s Minki who goes up with a resigned expression on his face. Everyone had expected him to do the best, what with the fame of his androgynous image carrying over from Nu’est promotions, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the case in either timeline. Minhyun wants to blame the editors and producers for cutting him out, but he also feels a familiar curl of guilt inside his gut. Maybe if he tried to help Minki more and make himself stand out less…

 

Minki was 20 last time, if Minhyun remembers correctly. He shifts a little in his seat. He has an idea of who’s pushed Minki down one, but it’s not confirmed until Samuel gets called at 17. Minhyun closes his eyes when he hears the murmurs from everyone around him. It’s not fun to be the target of whispers and shock, and all the comments about how quickly Samuel’s fallen doesn’t help.

 

Samuel takes it with dignity, however, and rises to his feet purposefully. To anyone else, he might look like he expected it and is handling it well, but Minhyun watched this kid grow up. He might have never been as close to Samuel as the Seventeen boys are, but it’s still hard to forget the image of a child sweating alongside them in the practice rooms until late at night. He hasn’t had the chance to talk with Samuel, didn’t do a lot of it the first time around either. They’d lost contact once Nu’est debuted and Samuel moved to another agency. Now, though, looking at Samuel’s trembling hands clenched in fists and his stiff upper lip, Minhyun thinks that he wants to talk with him again. Samuel is a teenager now, and he’s been through more than most kids his age. Maybe he’ll buy him meat or something, and they can sit down and have a nice long talk. That’d be nice.

 

“Rank number sixteen,” BoA reads, shifting a little on her feet. Minhyun winces. BoA always wears incredibly high heels, maybe to make up for her average height while surrounded by towering guys, but also for her own image. Minhyun can’t say he’s never worn heels before, but he’s certainly never had to stand in them for hours on end. It must feel terrible.

 

“This trainee is someone who constantly impresses with his bright image and desire to improve.”

 

Whispers break out again, and Minhyun sees everyone looking at one another, trying to figure out who it will be from the slight hint given. The cameras will catch each and every statement, and if they’re not careful, someone might get edited badly enough to have their comment taken in a negative light instead. He wouldn’t be surprised. It’s happened before, and it’s sure to happen again before the show ends.

 

“Someone who took up a new challenge during the position evaluation and isn’t hard to look at either.” BoA makes the last statement playful, and Minhyun knows who she’s talking about. Loathe as they’d be to admit it in front of the cameras, all the trainers have a soft spot for Hyunbin and his puppy-like eagerness at odds with his height. “YGK+, Kwon Hyunbin!”

 

The room bursts into applause, and Hyunbin gets to his feet bashfully. Again, his rank has risen from where it was last time. He went from the low thirties to being in the tens, and Minhyun claps along. Compared to the previous timeline, this is only one rank above what he got previously, but he can’t help but wonder how much Hyunbin will rise. At this rate, Hyunbin is genuinely becoming a contender for the top eleven, and there’s no telling how it’ll affect the final eleven from how Minhyun remembers it.

 

Jisung and Woojin are called next, the red-haired boy from Brand New leaping to his feet the instant his name is called, looking overwhelmed and thankful in equal measure. As the numbers called get smaller and smaller, the tension in the room ratchets up another notch as the top ranked trainees begin looking around at one another.

 

Minhyun thinks about all the times the eliminated trainees said that all the trainees were genuinely close, and he thinks about the nights he’s spent staying up late talking with other trainees about anything and everything, other than the time travel, but he discussed even that with the friends who knew about it and he trusted enough to tell. Those bonds weren’t fake, and certainly, no one was lying about their closeness, but in moments like these, when their worth is being determined by the number of votes they got, it’s easy to prioritize yourself over others.

 

BoA puts the microphone to her lips again, a somber expression crossing her face.

 

“This is a trainee who is always reliable and constantly improving,” she begins. “He touches the hearts of the friends around him, and it’s that same heart that has reached the national producers.”

 

Well, this is sure an overly sentimental introduction. Minhyun involuntarily glances over at Dongho who is leaning back in his seat, still appearing relaxed despite the clench of his jaw.

 

When Dongho catches his glance, he grins back at Minhyun, all teeth, and mouths, “You?” at him.

 

“Me?” Minhyun whispers. “No, no, it’s probably you.” At least, it was last time.

 

Dongho raises an eyebrow but they don’t have time to argue over it more when BoA begins speaking again, eyes steely hard.

 

“Pledis Entertainment-”

 

It’s either him or Dongho. In fact, Minhyun wouldn’t be surprised if it was himself considering that he placed lower than he expected last time.

 

“It’s me, I think,” he concedes under his breath.

 

“Kim Jonghyun!”

 

The world stops.

 

Distantly, Minhyun can register the trainees around him exclaiming that Jonghyun placed much lower than they expected, can hear their applause as Jonghyun’s face is projected on the large screen, can feel Dongho shaking him, but none of that matters. When Jonghyun smiles and starts standing, Minhyun’s hand moves without his permission and latches onto the back of Jonghyun’s jacket.

 

As soon as his hand tangles in the cloth and Jonghyun looks back at him, though, Minhyun realizes he has nothing to say.

 

“What?” Jonghyun asks.

 

Minhyun stares at him. There’s so much he wants to say, tell him that this isn’t what his rank was supposed to be, say that he was supposed to be sitting at the top of that pyramid, that there was only supposed to be a single one on his rank this time but- “Congratulations.” The word sticks to his throat.

 

Minhyun lets go.

 

Haknyeon is 10, Dongho 9, which is two spots up compared to where he previously was, and Jaehwan gets bumped to number 8 as a result. Minhyun gets 7, and when he stands to go on stage, Seongwoo bumps the back of his knee and whispers, “lucky 7” in an attempt to reassure him. Minhyun could care less about luck when Jonghyun is so many rows below where he belongs.

 

He gets up, delivers a mechanical speech filled with all the things he’s supposed to say, and watches from his seat as Daniel and Guanlin are called up as the number one candidates. The slightest bit of resentment he felt towards Daniel from the morning of concept evaluation sortings has just grown now, and he hates that he hates the sight of Daniel standing on the lightbox where Jonghyun should be.

 

It’s stupid, so stupid that he feels this way when Jonghyun didn’t make the final group anyway. You could even say that this first place result doesn’t matter, but as Daniel is called as the number one and climbs up the stairs with a blissful, unbelieving expression on his face, Minhyun can’t find it in him to stand and congratulate him, even as Daniel stops to look at him expectantly.

 

Something on his face must give him away because Daniel halts in his steps towards him and instead turns to accept congratulations from the other top eleven instead. Jonghyun is among them, and Minhyun sees him raise a judging eyebrow in his direction as he hugs Daniel, but Minhyun stubbornly stays in his seat. Daniel can climb the stairs by himself, he doesn’t need Minhyun there.

 

When Daniel finally takes his seat, Minhyun doesn’t turn to look at him. He knows the expression Daniel is wearing; one of delighted surprise and a bit of nervousness mixed in. Relief, too, at ranking so highly at this stage in the evaluations since it does nothing but predict good things for his future. No teary eyes from Daniel because he doesn’t cry once over the course of the show other than when the video from the parents were shown, and even that was on behalf of Jisung rather than himself.

 

Mnhyun doesn’t turn to look because someone else’s expression is so clearly engraved in his mind at that moment. He can’t forget Jonghyun’s face, the shock and the genuine contentment he’d had as he looked up at the number one beside his name, all his effort and heart acknowledged in a tangible way for the first time in his life. The way Jonghyun gingerly sat on the throne and only perched at the edge, like he wasn’t sure the seat was meant for him after all, is still at the forefront of his mind.

 

Minhyun wants to swear. He wants to get up and scream at the unfairness, at how the world just can’t seem to let Jonghyun or Nu’est enjoy a moment of happiness. If Jonghyun couldn’t place in the final eleven, couldn’t he at least have this? Couldn’t he at least have the memory of having over two million votes of people that said, “Yes, you deserve this, we love you”?

 

This show is really too cruel.

 

It’s with that thought that Minhyun travels back to the dorms, squished up against his new group members. He doesn’t talk to anyone on the way back, face locked in a permanent scowl that had the other trainees draw a wide berth around him after the cameras turned off. Storming into his new room, Minhyun throws his stuff on the ground without care and almost violently rips his blankets out. It’s so hard to contain his anger, and Minhyun feels anger rise in a way that he’s hardly ever experienced before. He wants to throw something, and with his notebook in hand, whirls around only to come face to face with Jonghyun.

 

He stops in his tracks, arm half-raised and breathing heavily.

 

Jonghyun looks unfazed. “What are you doing?”

 

Minhyun lowers his arm because he can’t raise his hand against Jonghyun, could never do anything to hurt him, and says, “Nothing.”

 

It’s bullshit, and both of them know it. Jonghyun is kind enough to ignore the obvious lie and says instead, “Congratulations on placing seventh this time. There are three of us in the top eleven now.”

 

“But not the order it should’ve been,” Minhyun bites out. He can still feel himself shaking with anger. “This isn’t how things were supposed to go.”

 

“I thought as much when I saw your reaction.”

 

Minhyun waits, waits for Jonghyun to ask what the previous ranks were so he can explode and finally come clean about the injustice of it all, but Jonghyun doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Minhyun steadily with clear eyes. They stand like that, facing one another, until Minhyun gives in.

 

“You should’ve been first,” he says, turning away and flinging his notebook on the unfamiliar bed. “That’s what was supposed to happen. Daniel wasn’t even close to being in contention for number one. He was eighth.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“I just- you know, over two million people voted for you. They wanted you to be the center, they knew you deserved it. And you did. You still do.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“You should’ve been there. On that throne. Your face last time- that was the happiest I’ve seen you in such a long time, you looked so relieved and content and it was the only thing-” Minhyun chokes on his own words and cuts himself off. He has to swallow before continuing. “That’s the only thing I want, you know. For you to be happy. That’s what this is all for. And I- I hate that you aren’t.”

 

This time, Jonghyun doesn’t respond with a noncommittal noise and stays quiet. Minhyun squeezes his hands into tighter fists, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palms. He’s about to start ranting again when Jonghyun finally speaks.

 

“How do you know I’m not happy?”

 

Minhyun is stunned. “What do you mean?”

 

“How do you know I’m not happy?” Jonghyun repeats. When Minhyun doesn’t say anything in response, Jonghun sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset because I got first last time, but this isn’t that time, Minhyun. I thought we went through this already. You don’t have to expect everything to magically fall into place based on your own efforts. You’re not alone in this.”

 

“I know I’m not alone, that’s not the point of this!” Minhyun tries to keep his voice lowered, but it bursts out in an angry exclamation anyway. “I’m mad because you’re not getting what you deserve-”

 

“Minhyun, Minhyun, look at me.”

 

Jonghyun reaches out and grabs one of Minhyun’s hands. It falls open reflexively, and Jonghyun draws him closer until they’re standing almost nose to nose, Jonghyun’s face tilted up a bit to make up for their height difference.

 

“Do I look mad?”

 

Minhyun tries to look at Jonghyun’s face, but suddenly it’s too hard to see. He might be getting far-sighted or something. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, don’t ask me that,” he says, trying to yank his hand away.

 

Jonghyun holds on tightly and says firmly, “Minhyun, look at me. Do I look mad?”

 

He can’t refuse Jonghyun no matter what, even worked up as he is now, so Minhyun forces himself to look at Jonghyun, squinting as he tries to get a better look. “I don’t know, you’re all blurry.”

 

Jonghyun giggles. “That’s because you’re crying, Minhyun.”

 

Is he?

 

“Am I?” Raising a hand to his face, Minhyun is alarmed to find that, yes, he is indeed crying, and he didn’t even know. He scowls and tries to wipe the tears away. “Ah, not this again, what the heck,” he grumbles. “I’m not normally like this.”

 

“I know.”

 

Jonghyun watches him struggle a bit longer before offering his own sleeve as a tissue after Minhyun’s own sleeve gets soaked through. Minhyun accepts is after only a bit of hesitation, and the tears gradually trickle to a halt.

 

Once Jonghyun is sure that he’s done crying, he speaks again.

 

“I appreciate how you get like this for me, but you know I don’t care if I’m number one. Just being in the top eleven makes me happier than you can imagine. It means that people are acknowledging me.”

 

“But you did so well this time!” Minhyun protests. “Even your rap- it’s different from what it was, and it was better! Everyone said so, I don’t know why this happened and people didn’t vote for you as much-”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jonghyun says firmly. He scratches the back of his head and sighs a little. “You should know this best of all since you’re the one who went through it all already, but these things can’t be predicted. Everything can change in a heartbeat. Besides, you came back to change things, so what would be the point if everything stayed the same?”

 

“It wasn’t supposed to change like this,” Minhyun insists stubbornly. “You were supposed to get first, and then-”

 

“And then what? You were the one who said yourself that the best thing might be for none of us to make the top eleven,” Jonghyun points out reasonably. “Is that what happened last time? Or did all of us make it and leave Aron alone? No, don’t tell me,” he adds when Minhyun tries to say something. “I don’t want to know if I’m right or not because it doesn’t matter. What matters is us.”

 

“I just want you to be happy,” Minhyun says miserably. “But it seems like even that is too much to ask for.”

 

“How so?” Jonghyun laughs. “Minhyun, I’m happy now. Right here, like this. I’m happy because I’m making so many new friends on this show, and people are recognizing us. I’m happy because Nu’est’s name shows up in the search engines constantly now. I’m happy because you care about me and because we’re all doing well.”

 

To his horror, Minhyun feels his lower lip trembling again.

 

“Minhyun, the rank don’t matter. This is fine. So don’t cry, and don’t burden yourself with the fate of the world. You’re trying your best, and that means more to me than any numbers this show can stick on us.”

 

Jonghyun lets Minhyun cry until he’s all worn out, makeup running down his face like those overdramatic shots from dramas. His entire life has been feeling like a drama recently, and Minhyun thinks that he should just learn to embrace that instead of running away. It’s easier said than done, though, and by the time the tears stop, Jonghyun’s entire shirt is soaked through.

 

“Feel better?” Jonghyun asks. Minhyun nods and then sniffles like a child. He hates himself a little for that, but then Jonghyun laughs and calls him cute and suddenly everything is a lot more tolerable.

 

“You have to sleep tonight, got it?” Jonghyun says, and Minhyun wonders when they switched positions. He’s too used to nagging at Jonghyun to sleep instead of gaming, but here Jonghyun is telling him to sleep instead of the other way around.

 

“I will, I think I’ll collapse if we keep standing like this much longer,” Minhyun says truthfully. “You have to sleep well too, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Jonghyun agrees. “I need it too.”

 

And he does. Looking closely, Minhyun can see the dark circles etched beneath Jonghyun’s eyes and the weary slant of his shoulders. With a start, Minhyun realizes that Jonghyun is just as stressed as he is, if not more since he has to worry about his emotionally unstable time travelling member on top of all the other things he has to think about. Knowing that he’s a burden to Jonghyun rather than a help is an unpleasant feeling, and Minhyun resolves to do something about it.

 

“Okay, then sleep well,” Jonghyun says. He starts leaving the room, and Minhyun calls out to him before thinking.

 

“Wait, your room is-”

 

Jonghyun turns and gives Minhyun a puzzled smile. “My room is on the other end of the hallway. With all the Never members? After all…”

 

Oh. That’s right.

 

“… we’re on different teams this evaluation.”

 

With all the chaos surrounding the rankings, Minhyun had almost forgotten. Jonghyun is on Never where he’s supposed to be, surrounded by Seongwoo, Jaehwan, Daniel, Guanlin, and more. Just not him.

 

Because he’s on the Open Up team instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, reading comments from the last chapter: aww, I’m glad they liked it!  
> me, still reading: uh oh, hope I’m not making this too angsty…  
> me, still reading: wow, they don’t want anything to change from now on, huh?  
> also me: w h o o p s


	10. Episode 9

9

 

Sitting on the floor of the Open Up team room, Minhyun can’t help but wonder what he’s doing here.

 

It’s not that he dislikes his team members. On the contrary, he gets along extremely well with MMO’s Joo Jinwoo, the two of them bonding over being the only sane ones in their respective groups, and Minhyun has discovered that their voices harmonize well together. The eldest of the group is a stable and calming presence, and when Minhyun hears him gripe good-naturedly about Daniel or Jisung, he feels like he can relax for the first time this entire competition.

 

Of course, there’s also Dongho. This is the first time that Minhyun and Dongho have been on the same team for a team evaluation, and he’d be lying if he claimed it wasn’t reassuring to have another Nu’est member with him. Dongho welcomes Minhyun with open arms and a cheerful, “Looks like it’s our time to shine, eh?” that immediately sets Minhyun at ease.

 

Other than Jinwoo and Dongho, Minhyun gets along fine with the other trainees. He wasn’t particularly close to Insoo, Kenta, or the rest during the first time he filmed Produce 101, but it doesn’t bother him when he has to socialize with them. They’re all good kids willing to put in the time and effort for practice.

 

It’s too bad that Minhyun has messed everything up by getting switched to their team.

 

The Never team stood out last time for their lack of drama and relatively stress-free time rehearsing and practicing their choreography. The same cannot be said of Open Up, and Minhyun only realizes just how many problems they’re facing when they start practicing.

 

They run into their first problem quickly. They don’t have a leader who specializes in dancing. If Minhyun remembers correctly, Daniel filled this role last time and was able to teach his team the choreography in only a few days. Daniel is undoubtedly one of the strongest dancers in the show, less so for his actual skill (though that wasn’t something to be looked down upon) and more for his ability to quickly pick up dances and teach it to others. The rest of the trainees in this group are good, but hardly any of them are dancers. Even Kenta, the one with the most dancing experience, looks a bit lost at times.

 

Dongho is elected leader of the group, but dancing has never been his specialty, and it’s less of a leadership position than a cooperative one with everyone bringing their heads together to figure out the choreography. It’s hard and tiring and takes more time than it probably should.

 

Minhyun does his best to help with what he remembers of the choreography, but to be honest, he can’t remember that much. His movements feel wrong when he stumbles through the choreography, like his body is refusing to remember the dance. He catches himself reaching for his shirt and instinctively going into the footwork for Never several times, and he has to scramble and make it seem like he’s simply forgetting the dance rather than remembering another one.

 

Obviously, evaluations with Kahi go terribly. Both groups are missing the details, and only half of them can hit the point moves. The worst part is that they all know it should have gone better. Minhyun is sure that he at least could have done better, but he had spent the better part of practice time wondering exactly what he’d done to change things so that he ended up in Open Up instead of Never.

 

That was problem one. Then eliminations happened, and problem two hits fast.

 

They lose over half of their team members.

 

Minhyun had anticipated this, already knowing the general eliminations and remembering the drama over having to kick out the most members from Never. As soon as BoA announces the rules for switching teams, Minhyun sees all the trainees tense up as people realize that some of them will be at an inherent disadvantage. Never in particular looks concerned, Jonghyun looking back at his team members with a frown as if he’s trying to think who to remove for their own benefit. Actually, that’s probably what he’s actually thinking.

 

The Open Up team, on the other hand, immediately starts looking over the other trainees to see who’s most likely to be moved.

 

It’s a bit different, being on the other side of things, and Minhyun now realizes how easy he had it in the other time. Back in Never, they’d only had to decide who to let go of and then continue practicing choreography they were already familiar with in a group that had high morale and good chemistry. Now, they have to teach several new members the choreography while still familiarizing themselves with it.

 

No matter how he looks at it, it’s a bad deal.

 

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Minhyun carefully looks around at his teammates’ faces. Yongguk is staring blankly into space while Kenta worries at his shoelaces, untying them and tying them over and over again. Dongho is leaning back with his arms braced against the floor, a careful study in nonchalance, but Minhyun can see right through him. They’re all pretending, even himself.

 

“Leader?” he prompts after several minutes of silence that have the cameramen shifting. “What should our strategy be for picking the new members?”

 

“Ah, yeah.” Dongho visibly startles as he sits up. He looks around once and fiddles with the brim of his hat. “Well… we’re fine on vocals… With me, Minhyun, and Yongguk, that should cover it all, don’t you think?”

 

An understatement. This particular combination is one of the vocally stronger units out of the rest of the teams. It’s a pity that this song isn’t one that calls for any particular vocal versatility, but otherwise, Minhyun feels satisfied on that department.

 

“We need rappers,” he chooses to say instead. “One of the verses is pretty rap heavy, and we don’t have rappers right now.”

 

“I can rap if we need it,” Kenta volunteers. “I’m more of a dancer though.”

 

“So it’s better if we get an actual rapper,” Dongho concludes. “Who fits the bill who might come over?”

 

“I think Youngmin from Never,” Kenta says. “Never is going to lose a lot of people, and I think they’ll get rid of one of their rappers.”

 

“Wouldn’t they get rid of Guanlin then?” Yongguk points out logically. “They should get rid of the weaker rappers, and Youngmin is BNM. He’s good, definitely better than Guanlin.”

 

“Guanlin’s not that bad.” Dongho throws his weight behind the young rapper, one of the many younger kids he’d somehow ended up adopting. Minhyun remembers Dongho’s soft spot for Guanlin extending all the way until the finale, and the young chick had certainly grown because of Dongho’s encouragement. Sometimes it just helps to have someone in your corner, regardless of how small their actual actions are. “And he’s popular. Since we’re not competing against one another individually anymore, it’s more advantageous to have the popular kids on your team.”

 

“True.” Kenta concedes the point, stretching his arms above his head. “So a rapper is our first priority, Youngmin hyung if we can get him. Who else do we want? Or, rather, what position,” he amends.

 

Everyone falls silent.

 

“Honestly… everything else is kind of up for grabs, right?” Kenta asks.

 

Minhyun finally speaks up. “We need to work on our performance,” he says firmly. “We’re getting the steps down, but it doesn’t look like we own it, you know?”

 

“Mm, that’s something that can be improved with practice though,” Dongho points out. “I don’t know if we need to specifically recruit people off of that.”

 

“It’s important to pick people who fit the song’s mood,” Minhyun insists. “Beyond the positions we actually need to fill, we should think about who can enhance the song, not just help us cover. We need to take ownership of the song.”

 

Kenta ducks his head and mutters something under his breath.

 

Minhyun watches him warily. “Sorry, did you say something?” He tries to be polite so as not to rattle any already frazzled nerves. Kenta was clearly nervous during the first half of concept evaluation practice, likely worried about his lack of screentime and the ever-approaching final. He doesn’t want to make Kenta feel threatened or like his voice isn’t being heard, but they also can’t show any signs of division. This late in the game, unless you’re a fan favorite, people will just jump on any mistakes or “personality problems.” It’s better to play safe.

 

Kenta shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he mutters.

 

“If you have something to say, you should say it,” Minhyun says. He tries to make his voice come off as encouraging rather than irritated. He’s not sure he succeeds.“We’re a team, we should figure this out together.”

 

“Ah, it’s not that!” Kenta waves his hands in the air, protesting. His prominent snaggleteeth peek out from behind his lips as he ducks his head and smiles sheepishly. “I was just saying that you really live up to your nickname.”

 

“Of course I do,” Minhyun says without thinking, bringing his hand up and then jerking it down in an aborted motion to cover his mouth.

 

That was a mistake. You’re not supposed to say you know about your nicknames, not on camera unless it’s a cute behind-the-scenes video. That’s acknowledging that a world exists outside of the show’s bubble, that you have access to resources that let you know what people are saying. Even worse, saying “of course” indicates pride, maybe even hubris if you stretch for it. Oh, sure, it’s an open secret that the trainees are monitoring their own behavior and feedback, but saying it out loud strips away the authenticity they’re supposed to be selling.

 

There’s a split second of silence where Minhyun worries about how the others will take it, and then Dongho bursts into laughter. Kenta quickly follow suit, Minhyun joining them, and Yongguk giving a shy smile as if he’s not sure what’s happening. They try to laugh it off, but the way their eyes dart nervously from side to side betrays their nervousness.

 

The editors might not catch this moment, might deem it unworthy to make the final cut. It might not even be aired, but it’s a reminder that they’re all treading a fine line between fame and witch hunt.

 

“So who should we pick?” Dongho asks. It’s the mark of an experience idol because regardless of how big Nu’est made it, five years of debut meant that they knew how to play the game. If you mess up, pause for a bit, then start again with a neutral statement that can pass as the original. It’s a clear sign for the editor that they can cut there to avoid any potentially controversial material, and Minhyun is grateful that Dongho is the one who leaves it.

 

“We should pick someone who fits the concept.” He repeats the general gist of what he said the first time, and this time around, Kenta is wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Again, it might not seem like a big deal, but at this stage in the game, it’s not worth the potential problems.

 

It’s also a reminder for Minhyun that he’s not in the clear. Far from it.

 

They spend the rest of their time discussing who should come over, and honestly, Minhyun has no idea. He thinks that Youngmin will probably be moved, just like before, and probably Moonbok as well. Other than that, it’s really up in the air who the Never team will move.

 

“They’re going to start coming now!” a staff member announces off-camera.

 

The trainees immediately scramble to their feet, pausing and waiting until the cameramen give an okay signal before they start muttering under their breaths, soft enough to seem like a natural response, but loud enough for the cameras to catch.

 

“Who’s it gonna be? Who? Who?” Dongho asks repeatedly, shifting from foot to foot with a small smile on his face.

 

“Ah, I’m nervous!” Kenta exclaims, twisting his hands together.

 

“Now… who will it be?” Minhyun chimes in.

 

The door opens, and Minhyun feels his pulse quickening in his throat. He doesn’t know who to expect walking through that door, and he cranes his neck alongside the rest of his teammates.

 

Moonbok walks in first, shy smile almost hidden by his swinging curtain of hair. The rest of his teammates “ah”, a few making surprised faces but Minhyun tries to keep his own expression blank. Moonbok moving from the Oh Little Girl team is hardly a surprise, but the real question is who’s going to come from the Never team.

 

Youngmin walks in first, a sheepish grin on his face. Minhyun welcomes him with a hug. He’s glad to see him, not only because they need a rapper to have a complete performance, but also because Youngmin is a friend now too. It’s always nice to have someone the same age as you around, and since Youngmin’s unfortunate scandal about his girlfriend occurring at the same time as his rise in popularity, the two have bonded during breaks about the fickle nature of fans. Youngmin in particular seems to be relieved every time he’s approached by Minhyun, whenever he can be dragged away from Donghyun and Sewoon, that is.

 

As soon as he pulls away from Youngmin, Minhyun checks to see who’s followed after him. Haknyeon enters, his smile on just the wrong side of brightness to be considered fully sincere. His entry was to be expected since he had left Never the last time too, but Minhyun is more surprised by who comes next.

 

When he sees the three faces that have followed behind, he almost stumbles back in shock.

 

Guanlin comes in, head ducked in what seems to be shame or embarrassment. His shoes scuff the hardwood floor as his feet drag him towards the center of the room, and the young boy can’t even muster up a smile at the others’ greetings. Minhyun’s mind is whirling as he tries to process this latest change. Guanlin instead of Seonho? Seonho is more of a vocalist than a rapper, or at least, that’s the position he’s been pushing for, and the main reason they pushed out Sungwoon last time in Never was because of the lack of vocal positions. What changed?

 

Speaking of Sungwoon… Minhyun whips his head around to see who the final member is, and instead of the short orange-haired vocalist he expects to see, he’s greeted by a grinning, 60 centimeter-shouldered rapper.

 

“Wow, hi, everyone!” Daniel greets happily.

 

Minhyun can only gape. These are far from the results they expected.

 

 

 

 

Conferring and then deciding who they want to bring over goes quickly because, well, if anyone looks at the teams, it should be obvious who’s going to stay. Youngmin is quickly selected because of the previously mentioned need for a rapper, Guanlin because Kenta is quick to say, “I said I could do rap, but I prefer vocal!” (plus popularity points, but no one is stupid enough to say that on camera. Not after Daehwi), and Daniel because Dongho finally admits, “Our dancing isn’t up to par, and we don’t look cohesive enough. I think we need him.”

 

The three join the team, Youngmin looking relieved, Guanlin looking depressed, and Daniel looking ecstatic with his trademark bunny smile. It’s almost insane, Minhyun reflects, on how that slightly derpy grin turns into an expression on stage that makes everyone, literally _everyone,_ go crazy.

 

Dejected, Moonbok and Haknyeon are sent off to the next room with a herd of cameras hurrying after them, and the lead cameraman in the Open Up room signals for a break. As soon as the ever-present red light is turned off, Minhyun grabs Daniel’s arm and drags him out of the room, loudly exclaiming, “You need to go to the bathroom? So do I! Let’s go together, Daniel!”

 

Once they’re in the hallway, Daniel turns to Minhyun with a raised eyebrow and says in an unimpressed voice, “That was the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. No one’s going to believe it.”

 

Minhyun shrugs. “I don’t need them to believe it, they’ll survive. What I do need is to hear exactly what went down in the Never room. What happened? How did all of _this,”_ Minhyun waves his arms in a wide circle so Daniel understands the full implications of _this_ , “happen?”

 

Daniel shoots him a look. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you! Guanlin! Getting kicked out of the team? How did that even happen?”

 

Daniel’s face brightens, and he rocks back on his heels, sticking his hands in his pockets. With his cap sitting on his and the matching sweatpants and shoes, he looks the very image of a relaxed college boy instead of a Korean pop idol trainee on his way to becoming a superstar. “Oh, that! Well, everyone on the team has really good chemistry, right? So none of us felt great about just kicking out three members, so Jonghyun hyung asked for volunteers first.”

 

“Really?” Minhyun can’t keep the surprise from coloring his voice. Last time, no one had bothered asking for volunteers because they already knew that no one would want to move. To hear that it went in that direction this time around is surprising.

 

“Yeah.” Daniel doesn’t seem to notice Minhyun’s surprise as he blithely continues his rendition of what happened. “I was actually the first one to volunteer.”

 

“You?!”

 

Daniel definitely notices Minhyun’s surprise now, and he giggles a bit before speaking again. “Yeah. I mean, I really like the song and everything, but I felt like the team was already heavy on dancers? With Seongwoo, Jonghyun, Woojin, and me, it kind of felt like I was taking up unnecessary space, and I wanted to try a different concept. Like… sexy Daniel. Can you imagine that?”

 

He can, Minhyun thinks dryly, probably more than Daniel can imagine, but whatever. He lets Daniel continue.

 

“So that was me taken care of. I guess that sort of took the pressure off because Haknyeon admitted that he didn’t feel too sure about the dance or the concept and wanted to try something else, and Youngmin hyung said he knew that you guys needed a rapper and wanted to hang out with you more, so that was taken care of too!”

 

“What about Guanlin?” Minhyun asks. No matter how he looks at it, this is the weirdest change yet. Youngmin and Haknyeon volunteering he can accept since they were moved from the team last time too, and fine, maybe the cosmic forces decided that a universe where Daniel didn’t run his hand up his thigh suggestively wasn’t a universe worth living in so they arranged events for Daniel to perform Open Up anyway, but Guanlin? It makes no sense.

 

Daniel hesitates. “Well…No one really volunteered after that,” he discloses. “So it was kind of awkward since we needed one more person, and no one wanted to vote that one person off. Then Seonho just looked at Guanlin and went, “hyung?”- you know how he does it?”

 

Yes, Minhyun knows exactly how Seonho does it. He raises his voice just a little, makes direct eye contact, and tilts his head to side while looking earnestly at you all the while. It’s deadly.

 

“And then the Cube chicks had a staring contest for a while,” Daniel continues. “It was kind of freaky, actually. Eventually, it looked like they came to some sort of conclusion, and Seonho asked the rest of us who we thought would benefit the most from the performance.”

 

Benefit. That’s the key word here. In terms of the actual vote benefit from the live performance, 20,000 additional votes each is a paltry sum. Even the 100,000 for the first place member of the team is barely a drop in the bucket when it comes to the numbers that Produce 101 is pulling, so the benefit Daniel’s talking about and that Seonho referred to isn’t simply that. No, he probably means who stands to gain the most overall from this performance.

 

“What did you say?”

 

Daniel scratches his chin with the hand that isn’t bandaged from where he injured his thumb playing that dumb punching game. “The room was split. Some people thought that we needed another rapper and that Guanlin could learn from that, others thought that Seonho fit the song more and should tackle a more mature role. We ended up voting between the two in the end, and well, Guanlin is here with us now, so I guess you know the result of that.”

 

“Hm.” Minhyun is deep in thought. He can’t deny that a part of him was glad that Seonho wasn’t in Open Up this time, especially when he remembered the comments about the young boy in such a mature and, let’s be honest, sexual performance. Immediately after, he feels guilty about feeling relived since Guanlin is barely older that Seonho and might be even more sexualized because of his more mature image. Guanlin obviously wanted to stay in Never, and it’s going to take some work to make sure he integrates into the team properly.

 

“This might be a good thing,” he says aloud. When Daniel looks questioningly at him, Minhyun elaborates, “The dance moves in Never are really hard, and I don’t know whether or not Guanlin could keep up. Open Up isn’t necessarily easier, but the moves are smaller so mistakes are less obvious.”

 

“Ahhh,” Daniel hums in acknowledgement. “Well, I’m sure everything will turn out for the better regardless!” he says, optimistic as always. “We’ve been here too long for a bathroom break, we should probably get back and practice. From what I saw during the joint session, seems like you need a lot of it.”

 

Minhyun recognizes the good-natured jibe for what it is and elbows Daniel lightly in the ribs as retaliation. “You better be prepared to teach us then,” he retorts, ignoring Daniel’s “oomph!” after his hit. “Mr. Get Ugly Choreographer!”

 

Daniel shoots him a wink that would make Park Jihoon proud. “Just wait for it!”

 

It might’ve been cool if it ended there, but the moment is ruined when Daniel cringes at his own cheesiness, using his whole body as his hands curl into fists and he runs away with his shoulders raised. Minhyun sighs. To think that this is the kid that’s going to drive all of Korea crazy in just a few days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although it might not seem like a big deal, practice goes a lot more smoothly once Daniel arrives. Having someone who’s confident in both the dance and the expression is a big help, and the rest of the group quickly gains conviction as the days drag on. Their choreography becomes sharper, performances cleaner, and the team bonds a little more.

 

There’s only one problem: a certain huge and aspiring swaggy rapper who goes by the name of Lai Guanlin.

 

Daniel takes Guanlin aside several times to try and cheer him up, going through the details of the choreography. Guanlin follows the motions like a robot, face never-changing. It’s easy to tell that the younger is still feeling depressed about being voted out of Never, and Minhyun briefly considers asking Jonghyun to talk to Guanlin because his attitude is certainly not coming across well on the cameras.

 

He dismisses the idea just as quickly as it comes because Jonghyun still has his hands full with the Never team despite their good chemistry. He was a little surprised to hear that they kept Sungwoon, but considering that they had one less one vocal vying for the position this time, it makes sense that they’d want to keep the other contender for main vocal on the show, both for vocal stability and also because of less competition.

 

Well, it’s also not fair of Minhyun to expect Jonghyun to fix everything and take responsibility for more than his own team. Regardless of how highly his leadership skills are held in esteem by the fans of the show, there are limits to what Jonghyun can accomplish. No, they’ll have to handle the Guanlin issue on their own.

 

That’s easier said than done, though, and Minhyun is regulated to the sidelines as any and all efforts to engage Guanlin fall to the byway. Jokes and gags leave no impression as Guanlin stares impassively, and even Daniel’s offers to stay behind late and practice with him are ignored. The problem isn’t so much that Guanlin can’t get the hang of the dance. In fact, he has most of the movements down and is able to mesh pretty well with the rest of the group. He’s just so clearly unenthused that it’s difficult to reconcile with the brightly smiling Guanlin back when he was in Never.

 

“It looks like he’s really taking getting kicked out hard,” Daniel confides quietly to Minhyun at one break. They both eye Guanlin sitting in the corner. It feels like there’s a wall between him and the rest of the team, even as Dongho invites him to join them and is subsequently turned down. “He’s still working hard, but he’s so disheartened. It’s depressing.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How did you deal with it last time?” Daniel lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, setting his hands on his hips as he considers the situation.

 

Minhyun can only shake his head. “I didn’t have to deal with it last time,” he admits. When Daniel looks at him for more information, Minhyun lifts his shoulders in a helpless half-shrug. “The teams are different this time around. I wasn’t even on the Open Up team, and neither was Guanlin. This is my first time seeing him like this.”

 

“Seriously?” Daniel looks shocked. “So- wait, does that mean you don’t know how this will turn out?”

 

“I have a general idea,” Minhyun says. “But there’s no predicting what will happen.” Glancing over Guanlin again, he continues, “Live performances are soon. If Guanlin can’t get it together by then, well…”

 

There’s nothing any of them can do to help him.

 

True to his statement, practice time passes quickly, and before Minhyun knows it, it’s time for the live performances.

 

Open Up’s stage is just as elaborate and suggestive as last time, and Minhyun fiddles with the lapels of his suit jacket idly as he watches the younger members fool around on set during rehearsal. Everyone’s faces are lighthearted and relaxed. Even Guanlin has managed to pull himself out of his funk long enough to laugh at Kenta pulling open Youngmin’s jacket while on the bed. Minhyun can only hope that the editing team picked up on Guanlin’s insecurity as the root of his attitude rather than give him the evil edit. No one deserves the hate that comes with that.

 

Rehearsal goes smoothly, and as soon as they step off stage, Dongho and Daniel are bombarded by compliments that make both of them blush. Minhyun himself receives a fair amount of praise that he can’t help but smile at. It’s not as if he doesn’t know that he’s considered attractive. He might not have imagined himself on this team, but Minhyun’s not going to let this opportunity to establish a different image for himself slip away. When the team monitors their rehearsal backstage, Minhyun can’t help but be impressed by how they look overall. Daniel and Dongho are already a given, but Minhyun is a bit surprised at how well he comes off on screen.

 

He isn’t given too much time to admire himself, however, as the next team rushes to take their place, and then it’s time for the performance.

 

The crowd has grown substantially this time. It’s 2,000 people in the audience instead of 1,000, and Minhyun can tell the other trainees are nervous from the copious amounts of fidgeting going on. The screams from outside start as soon as the venue is opened and people begin pouring in, and the Minhyun can barely hear himself talk backstage.

 

With only half an hour to go before they start moving to the backstage room, Minhyun is sent to find their wayward maknae by a harried Dongho who’s in the middle of getting his hair fixed from where he tousled it absent-mindedly. After a few turns, Minhyuncatches Guanlin pacing outside an empty equipment room with Seonho trailing at his heels.

 

“Guanlin!” Seonho whines. Neither of them notice Minhyun, and he quietly slips behind the wall to- it’s not eavesdropping, okay, he prefers to call it reconnaissance.

 

“Go away, Seonho, I’m not in the mood,” Guanlin retorts, accent heavier than usual with frustration.

 

“Guanlin, seriously, what’s up with you!” Seonho asks, and it’s then that Minhyun notices Seonho isn’t addressing Guanlin formally. Seonho had explained that they had referred to each other as friends prior to the program and that he was still adjusting to calling Guanlin formally, but it’s still a bit of a shock to hear him this way. “You’ve been in a bad mood this entire time. You won’t talk to anyone, not even me, and you don’t even eat with people.”

 

“That’s none of your business.” Guanlin tries to leave the hallway but is stopped in his tracks when Seonho snags his sleeve.

 

“I don’t like it,” Seonho declares stubbornly. “It’s pointless and stupid, and I hate seeing you upset. Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong, and we can figure something out!”

 

“Nothing’s wrong!” Guanlin insists, rather pointlessly from Minhyun’s perspective since literally anyone with half an eye can tell that Guanlin has been struggling. “Anyway, don’t you have a performance to take care of?”

 

“I’m worried about you,” Seonho presses. His tone turns serious as he continues addressing Guanlin. “And you’re so close to getting into the final group, don’t ruin your image like this.”

 

“What image!” Guanlin bursts. He flings Seonho’s hand away from him, spinning around to face his labelmate’s shocked eyes. “My only image is that I’m good-looking!”

 

Seonho doesn’t say anything, eyes wide as Guanlin continues. “I’m not good at anything, and people only like me because I’m attractive.” His tone has moved away from frustrated, and Guanlin simply sounds defeated now. “Even the hyungs didn’t want me on the Never team…”

 

“That’s not true!”

 

Seonho moves forward and grabs Guanlin again, only this time he doesn’t let Guanlin pull away. His eyes are fierce.

 

A slight shift to his left tears Minhyun’s attention from the scene, and he looks over to see some cameramen suddenly assembled. How long have they been there? He flinches back a little in shock, but one of the directors places a warning fingers on his lips, gesturing for Minhyun to stay quiet. They’re clearly intent on capturing this intense scene, and Minhyun bites his lip. Seonho and Guanlin don’t seem to have noticed that they’re being filmed as Seonho starts speaking.

 

“You weren’t kicked out by the Never team because they didn’t want you there,” he states firmly. “It’s because they knew you could do well in other teams too-”

 

“Don’t say things just to make me feel better-”

 

“Ah, be quiet and let me talk!”

 

Seonho’s outburst works, and Guanlin falls quiet. “You weren’t the only one who got moved, and everyone had their reasons. Besides, this is the first time you didn’t get the team you want. Everyone has to go through something hard in order to grow, isn’t that right?”

 

“I guess…” Guanlin mumbles.

 

“And as for being untalented!” Seonho barrels on like a wrecking ball, voice rising as he gets more worked up. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard from your mouth, Lai Guanlin, and we’ve done some stupid things together! Didn’t everyone praise your rap in Fear and say you improved a lot and that you have potential? How can you think that you’re not talented!”

 

“I can’t keep up with the dance,” Guanlin protests. “Even though Daniel hyung stayed behind to teach me-”

 

“You’re only six months old!”

 

Minhyun is sure that Seonho doesn’t mean it literally, but he can’t keep a small grin off his face at Seonho’s slip of tongue and his earnestness.

 

“You know that you’re still improving!” Seonho continues. “Isn’t that the reason we came on this program the first place? To learn as much as we can from it and then improve? I know you know, so tell me! What’s the real problem?”

 

Guanlin hunches over, and suddenly he seems a lot smaller despite his height as he says in a small voice, “I just don’t want you to leave me behind.”

 

It’s said so lowly that Minhyun wonders if the cameras were even able to catch it, but Seonho’s face softens immediately. He moves to hug Guanlin, clinging to him the same way he might hug Minhyun.

 

“What are you talking about, I’m not going to leave you behind,” he says.

 

“It seems like it…” Guanlin mumbles. “You’ve been getting so much screentime recently, and you’re so popular, everyone says you’re perfect. Even the hyungs love you, and your rank keeps going up too… You’re going up, and all I’m doing is going down. You’re leaving me.”

 

“I would _never._ You’re the superstar, remember? Not me, you.”

 

“But-”

 

“ _Never._ I’m not leaving you behind, got it?”

 

Come to think of it, Minhyun reflects, Guanlin had been on all the teams he wanted during the first time around. From Minhyun’s understanding, part of Guanlin’s appeal had been his growth and willingness to improve at each stage, but Minhyun also remembers the moments when Guanlin seemed lost and discouraged at the beginning of filming. Probably, getting moved from the Never team and voted off at that must have been a shock to him. It wasn’t a move that anyone expected, especially not Minhyun, and it must’ve surprised Guanlin the most.

 

Maybe the biggest surprise isn’t that Guanlin has been acting sulky these past few days, but that it took this long for him to crack. Minhyun racks his brain, searching for a reason they avoided this the first time around, but he’s coming up empty. Actually, literally empty. Minhyun tries to remember the details of how they interacted during preparations for Never and can’t pull up any specifics at all.

 

He takes a step back, stumbling away from the heartwarming scene. He’s barely able to stop himself from running back to the waiting room, and his legs still carry him through the winding hallways quickly. A passing staff member grabs him, looking harried as she warns him that they’re gathering all the trainees since the performances are about to start, and Minhyun musters up enough energy for a nod before she’s gone again.

 

The waiting room is packed full of trainees, and as Minhyun collapses into his seat besides Daniel, the other gives him a questioning look when he doesn’t respond to his greeting.

 

It feels like he’s surrounded by glass, something muffling any sounds that come from around. Minhyun is in a daze. He can faintly register people’s lips moving but can’t tell if it’s directed towards him or not. Dongho settles in his other side, and he might greet Minhyun, he might not. Minhyun can’t tell because he’s too busy trying to swim through the mess of his thoughts.

 

What’s going on? He’s never had a problem remember previous events before this. Minhyun presses a hand to his forehead, missing the concerned looks Dongho and Daniel trade over his head. Frantically, Minhyun tries to recall anything more specific than the final eleven and finds that he can’t even remember what position he was for the final debut song. Sub vocal 2? No, that’s not it. Someone- Sungwoon? Seongwoo?- had moved him from his preferred position, right- no, that might not be it. Who gets eliminated in the final elimination before the finale- Hyunbin, it was Hyunbin and Yongguk, but that might change because Hyunbin here is hardworking and good, he’s always been that way, or not and-

 

Minhyun bites his tongue.

 

The sharp and metallic taste of blood fills his mouth and forces him to draw in a breath through his nose. He might be losing his touch and forgetting things, but hell if Minhyun’s going to work himself into a panic attack right before their performance. He’s better than that, has to be.

 

Performing feels robotic to Minhyun. He stands along with everyone else when it’s their turn to perform on stage. He gets in position and poses, waiting for the music to start. He sings and doesn’t miss a note, licking his lips and staring into the camera at all the right times. When his stage is finished, he sits down and watches Jonghyun’s team perform with Jaehwan as the center, clapping when he’s supposed to. Some part of him distantly notes that Jonghyun has gotten more than four seconds this time, a side effect of having one less rapper to split lines with, and when all the trainees are lined up to see the concept evaluation rankings, he doesn’t react when he sees that Never has placed first this time, and Open Up second.

 

The changes, he thinks vaguely, don’t matter that much anymore. How could they, when the finale is fast approaching and Minhyun doesn’t know what his plan is, can’t even remember what happened last time.

 

Maybe he should have seen this coming. Maybe he should have realized that it was impossible to keep two different lives separate, especially when they overlapped so much. It’s already been around three months since he started reliving this entire experience, and his memories of the other timeline are faded, grainy images that blur along the edges. When he thinks about the company evaluations, he has to fight to remember the first result when the image that automatically comes up is his own tears. The following events smear like ink across a page, obscuring any messages previously written there.

 

Minhyun only remembers one thing clearly: the view from the ninth seat, and the consuming loneliness that came with it.

 

Funnily enough, he can’t tell if the ache inside of him now is from memories or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update. anyway, this chapter is a mESS HELP WHAT SORT OF TRASH IS THIS. I have no justification for why this chapter to become so focused on the Cube chicks, but they somehow decided to take over and??? It must’ve been incredibly difficult for Guanlin during the entire program, and he expressed multiple times how he felt that his skills weren’t up to par. Although he became more confident as the program went on, he was never on a team that he didn’t want to be on, and I think moving teams would have only reinforced his existing insecurities, so somehow that headcanon landed into this chapter -___-
> 
>  
> 
> That aside, please imagine Minhyun performing Open Up and his voice on the chorus, ok thnx bye.


	11. Episode 10

10

 

“Hey, did you hear the rumor?”

 

“About the final number? Yeah.”

 

“Do you think it’s true?”

 

“I have no idea, but it seems like it’s just media play…”

 

“Look at everything that’s happened so far, though…”

 

“I think they’re going to make the final number smaller-”

 

“No, they’re making it larger. For sure.”

 

“How do you know-”

 

The dorms are flooded by hushed and anxious whispers. They’ve all read Mnet’s statement about the number of trainees who would make what was previously assumed the top 22, and they’ve all seen the rumors about the number either going up or going down. It’s causing an undue amount of stress, even more than previously, and Minhyun has seen several trainees excuse themselves to bathroom only to return pale and sweaty. For some, it’s their first stress-induced panic attacks, and the more experienced trainees such as the Nu’est and Hotshot members have drawn them aside to gently give tips on how to handle them. Anxiety is unfortunately common in the industry, but everyone who’s debuted knows that the number one thing to avoid is having one in public.

 

Although he does his best to help the others, Minhyun finds himself stressing out too, having to stop at random points in the day to take several deep breaths before being able to resume tuning in to what was previously happening. He wants to be confident that the final group up for eliminations will be made up of twenty people, but he knows all the rumors that Mnet changed it to twenty in order to accentuate the drama of Guanlin falling so far in the ranks.

 

Speaking of Guanlin, the Cube trainee has been noticeably cheerier since the concept evaluations. Seonho sticks to him like glue, chattering away whenever his labelmate has a free ear. That doesn’t stop him from clinging to Minhyun whenever they’re in the same space. Seonho seems to have a sixth sense for whenever Minhyun is feeling a little upset because anytime Minhyun finds himself getting sucked into his own thoughts, the younger is somehow there to pull him out of it.

 

It’s that infectious attitude that saves Guanlin from falling back into his funk when episode 9 airs, and he sees the full force of how his despondent attitude came off across camera. After seeing the spoilers online, Dongho had gone straight to Guanlin to ask how he was feeling, and when Minhyun later asked how it went, Dongho had only shaken his head and said, “He’s dealing with it, trying to be optimistic. I think he’ll be okay.”

 

Guanlin might be okay, but there’s no telling how that will shake up the rankings.

 

The trainees are only given a few days of reprieve before the next eliminations. Minhyun spends them in some sort of weird rotating circle. He spends the first night in a giant cuddle pile with the rest of Nu’est, even venturing out of the dorms to visit Aron and catch up with him. The second night is dedicated to Sorry Sorry Team 2, even when Daniel and Seongwoo take part of the day to go and visit their subway ads, winking and nudging at one another in a way that makes all the other trainees groan. That night though, they manage to find time to sit in a circle and just chat. All the members studiously avoid topics regarding eliminations or the future which Minhyun is grateful for. Instead, they scroll through Twitter and laugh at how the fans are freaking out about the so-called “Ongniel” date, and Hyunbin flails and trips multiple times when he’s asked to fetch more snacks. The night is interspersed with Jaehwan waving a tube of lipstick threateningly in Mihyun’s direction while the other members laugh.

 

Minhyun relaxes in increments. His shoulders loosen little by little, eventually uncoiling from the tense knots that they were in when Seongwoo offers to give him a massage, something he’s unfairly good at, seriously, what _can’t_ Seongwoo do? At one point, Daniel cracks a joke that makes Jonghyun laugh so hard he literally rolls on the ground. Of course, that makes everyone else start laughing, and before long the room is filled with the obnoxious laughing of six boys.

 

In the midst of the laughter, Minhyun catches Jonghyun’s eye, and they stare each other for a brief second, Jonghyun with a wide smile tugging the corners of his lips upwards.

 

_I am happy._

 

How can Minhyun call Jonghyun a liar when he looks at him like this?

 

All in all, Minhyun thinks as Seongwoo launches into some convoluted tale about his infamous bag and fire alarms, there are worse ways to pass the days before elimination.

 

That being side, time doesn’t stop like it does at the end of happy movies and dramas. Instead, it’s cruel and relentless, forcing everyone to follow its unrelenting flow, and just like that, elimination day comes for the third day.

 

Company entrances are no less extra than they were previous times, though the companies have certainly shrunken. Pledis is the only one to enter in with the same number of members as the beginning of the show, but as soon as they take their seats, Minhyun bites his lip nervously. Everything has changed from the last time he sat in these seats, and the worst part is that he can’t remember exactly what the differences are. Nervousness bleeds from him, prominent enough to make Dongho, Minki, and Jonghyun glance over his way worriedly.

 

Jonghyun leans over, lips parting to say something, but before he can get the words out, BoA enters.

 

The cheers are noticeably more subdued, not only because their number have almost halved from last time. The tension is palpable, nerves stretched thin from nights of reading rumors and hearing “unconfirmed” when they ask. Everyone takes their seat quickly when BoA reaches the podium. She has a somber expression on her face, and when she lifts the microphone to her lips, the air goes still.

 

“Welcome to the third elimination,” BoA says seriously. Her eyes drift over the trainees, making eye contact with each of them as she speaks. Minhyun shivers a bit when her steely eyes meet his own. “The final elimination before the live finale.”

 

“Now you may have heard rumors about the number of trainees that will be allowed to participate in the final round.” Everyone nods and lets out little murmurs of agreement. “Let me confirm the number… right now.”

 

Of course, when BoA says “right now,” she actually means only after the directors are satisfied with the shots they have of the trainees faces looking like they’re about to throw up. A few minutes pass before the camera director presumably gives BoA the thumbs up, and she starts speaking again.

 

“The final number of trainees attending the finale is…”

 

Minhyun can feel his heart pounding, and he sees Hyunbin raise a hand to his chest unconsciously.

 

“Twenty!”

 

Dismayed rumors break out even as Minhyun sags back against his seat. That more or less confirms that Guanlin dropped in the ranks again and that all the trainees are in for an even more stressful elimination than usual. When he feels Minki’s hand covering his own, he realizes he was trembling.

 

“I thought for sure it would be twenty four…” Minki murmurs, blond hair obscuring his eyes.

 

Daniel twists in his chair and looks at Minhyun, eyes questioning. Minhyun barely nods, just a slight tip of his chin, but Daniel’s eyebrows furrow together as he turns back to the front.

 

“I pity whoever’s number 21 and 22,” Dongho says, shifting in his seat.

 

Minki thwacks him on the arm, scowling a little as he lets go of Minhyun’s hand. “Don’t say that, it could be one of us.”

 

“Then I’ll just pity us, won’t I?” Dongho shoots back.

 

Minki scoffs and turns his nose up.

 

“The candidates for twentieth will be revealed at the end,” BoA says to no one’s surprise. “Until then, let’s begin with nineteenth place.”

 

“This trainee is always working hard, and he draws a lot of attention as one of the centers from the concept evaluation.”

 

Murmurs begin as trainees eye one another. “Center?” Dongo mutters. “That’s… Taedong, Samuel, Minki, Yongguk, and… Jaehwan.”

 

Minki swallows nervously, and his hands twist in his lap.

 

“Pledis, Choi Minki!”

 

Minki sags in relief against his chair, covering his face with both hands as his shoulders shake. Jonghyun leans over to hug him, and Dongho pats him encouragingly on the back. Minhyun gives Minki a high five that turns into a weird hand hug as he goes up and settles back. He can’t remember what rank Minki was last time, but surely, surely if Minki made it, that means that all four of them are in, right?

 

The next few ranks pass by uneventfully, but with every name called, another spot is lost as the remaining trainees tense up in their seats. Dongho goes up at number sixteen, dropping a heavy hand on Minhyun’s shoulder reassuringly as he goes. Now there are two empty seats between Minhyun and Jonghyun, and he can’t help reaching over to find reassurance from Jonghyun.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Jonghyun says, eyes crinkling in a smile. “Don’t worry.”

 

“Now, we’re at rank fifteen,” BoA announces, drawing Minhyun’s attention back. “This trainee is known for his emotional image that draws people in and captivates them.”

 

Emotional? Maybe Woojin, with his recent screentime showing the different sides of his personality, or even Guanlin because of his depressed image. That’s not really something that netizens go for though…

 

“He also showed a new image during the concept evaluations,” BoA continues. “Challenging a mature image that was sexy-”

 

“Sexy? Must be Open Up,” Minhyun hears someone mutter.

 

Emotional… he doesn’t think anything changed drastically enough for Kenta to have a shot, nor does he think Daniel ranked so lowly despite his lack of the 100,000 vote benefit. Yongguk was in contention for rank twenty last time, but he’s hardly emotional and that leaves-

 

“Pledis, Hwang Minhyun!”

 

Ah.

 

Rising to his feet, Minhyun accepts the congratulations from the trainees he passes. Going up the steps to the mid-tier seat doesn’t feel unusual, even though he can clearly remember being eleventh last time. This all slots in nicely with his plans anyway, or whatever semblance of a plan he has left, and when he takes his seat to look down at the rest of the trainees, he feels more relaxed than when he was with them on the ground.

 

The only person left to worry about is Jonghyun, and far away though he is, Minhyun can tell from Jonghyun’s posture that he’s calm and poised. Minhyun has no idea how he does it because it would certainly be impossible for him. He’s already proved that he’s less stone-faced than he thought since that hasn’t even been a nickname remotely close to him this time around.

 

Numbers fourteen and thirteen pass by easily, Hyungseop and Seonho going up respectively, and when Seonho passes Minhyun he gives a cute little wave with his hand in the shape of a V. Minhyun waves back, which turns out to be a mistake since Seonho takes it as an invitation and bounces over happily to give Minhyun a hug before climbing up the stairs.

 

“Now it’s time for the person who’s hovering on the cusp of entering the top eleven,” BoA announces grandly. “Twelfth place.”

 

She doesn’t waste any time, probably sensing the tiredness wafting from the trainees as their nerves are stretched too tightly for the tension to be enjoyable.

 

“This is someone who the national producers are very fond of…”

 

“No, really?” Minhyun can’t stop the snide comment from slipping from his lips, and he hears a faint snort from Hyungseop. Hopefully, it goes unnoticed or is edited out.

 

“… and someone’s whose expected position within groups is always sure.” BoA looks placidly down at the cue cards in her hand. “From Never-”

 

None of the Never team members save Seonho have been called yet, and they all perk up. A fixed position sounds like Jaehwan, and twelfth is a good position to be in when the finale rolls around since it’s perceived as being a spot that can either rise or fall. If you’re someone as popular or viewed as necessary like Jaehwan is, this might be the biggest advantage.

 

“Pledis, Kim Jonghyun!”

 

Okay, Minhyun thinks while clapping numb hands together. He can’t even feel the impact from them coming together since they seem to have lost all their sense of touch. Whether it’s from the frigid AC temperature or stress, he doesn’t know. Okay, he can work with this. Twelfth is still low enough for all the Nu’est members to drop, and while Minhyun knows that his individual popularity hasn’t been as high this time around, it’s still enough to gain Nu’est momentum as they finally leave the show.

 

In the meantime, he watches Jonghyun stand up and take the microphone from a staff member as he prepares to give his speech.

 

“With this, all the trainees from Pledis have entered the top twenty,” BoA says grandly. She turns to face Jonghyun, twisting her neck to address Minki, Dongo, and Minhyun atop the pyramid too, and asks, “How does it feel?”

 

“Uh, it feels great,” Jonghyun says eloquently. His face flushes a bit as everyone laughs at the obvious answer, and he shyly giggles into the microphone. “No, seriously, this is such an amazing feeling. We… we never expected to get to this position when we first started on this programming. Rather than saying that I’m the one who did this, I want to thank the national producers for showing their love and to the rest of the trainees who supported me. Going into the finale in this position feels like a dream, and I’m thankful for this. Thank you.”

 

He ends with a deep bow, a position that he stays in for several seconds before finally rising and going to his seat. As Minhyun watches Jonghyun take his seat in the fourth row, he realizes with a start that this is the first time none of the Nu’est members have made the top eleven. A strange feeling rises in his gut, making its way to his chest and hammering against his ribcage before it settles, leaving Minhyun feeling strangely peaceful. This is okay. This is what he wanted, right? If they can all just remain in these positions-

 

“Now, the strongest contenders for the final group!”

 

BoA’s voice pulls him out of his musings, and Minhyun watches with half-interest as the top eleven are called. The usual suspects are there, Seongwoo and Jaehwan sitting prettily in their respective ranks while Daehwi faces another drop. The two surprises are Jisung and Samuel who have expressions of shock on their faces as they make their way to the stage. Minhyun takes a moment to wonder if Samuel will be able to make the top eleven this time before shaking his head. It’s been made abundantly clear to him that his predictions are worth nothing in this timeline, so it’s better not to get himself all tangled up trying to figure things out.

 

Daniel is still called as one of the first place candidates despite his lack of the benefit votes, something that only mildly surprises Minhyun since people don’t really have a good reason to not vote for him other than accusations of too much screentime, a complaint that ultimately doesn’t mean that much because it gets the recipient into the final group anyway. He looks bashfully up at his own face projected on the screen and laughs that awkward laugh that seems to be his default setting while the trainees around him congratulate him.

 

Jinyoung blinks several times in a row, almost like he’s trying to copy Jihoon, and he looks like he can’t believe that his face is up there, but when someone reassures him that this is indeed real, a genuine smile breaks across his face. Above Minhyun, Daehwi is clapping enthusiastically for his friend, expression the brightest it’s been since the start of filming for this round of eliminations.

 

Jihoon looks as calm and implacable as always, curly hair falling into his eyes just a bit as he nods at seeing his own face. It’s amazing, Minhyun reflects, that he’s sat at the top for so many weeks in a row and that his lowest rank has been third. He suddenly imagines himself transported into another world where Jihoon didn’t wink at the right time and wonders whether or not Jihoon would even be here in that world. He finds that he can’t answer that at all, can’t even begin to picture it.

 

Predictably, Sungwoon shrieks when he first sees himself, then shrieks again when he sees that it’s not a joke. He doesn’t stop yelling even when Taehyun joins in the yelling, and then suddenly they’re hitting each other excitedly, like two kids in the playground. Watching them almost brings a smile to Minhyun’s face. In fact, it probably would have if it weren’t for-

 

“Guanlin’s not there?” Seonho’s stricken voice cuts through the murmurs and shouts. He’s risen from his seat and looks like he’s ready to make his way down the pyramid to confront the camera team. “Guanlin hyung isn’t there? Is this a mistake?”

 

“This is not a mistake.”

 

The voice of a female staff members floats up from the groun where the camera crews are sitting, bringing looks of shock and incredulity to everyone’s faces.

 

“Lai Guanlin is not one of the candidates for first place.”

 

That statement makes the room’s sound level increase with a fervor, and from this vantage point, Minhyun can see the staff frantically gesturing at BoA to bring things back under control.

 

“Then, let’s see who’s fourth place, shall we?” BoA asks, raising her voice near the end to try and force the trainees’ attention back on her.

 

Sungwoon is fourth, Jinyoung third, and then it’s time for Daniel to be called. He and Jihoon face the half-empty seats while BoA tries to build tension focused on who the number one of the week is.

 

She fails, not because it’s not interesting, but simply because everyone left sitting in those seats is now wondering whether or not they’re one of the candidates for twentieth place. It’s a given, some of their faces seem to be thinking, that Guanlin takes up one of the four spots that will be put up, but maybe there’s still hope. Maybe.

 

Daniel and Jihoon are forced to stand on the lightboxes while BoA reads some statistics and numbers about how many votes were counted, and eventually, Daniel is announced as first place. He makes his way up the stairs to the top seat with a look of mystified gratification that he’s kept the seat for two eliminations in a row, and sits down with his hands covering the bottom half of his face. The applause he receives is genuine, but he’s clearly not the focus of what everyone is waiting for.

 

Once the cameras have had their fill of Daniel’s triumphant ascension, BoA begins speaking again, shifting a bit on her feet.

 

“And now, we’ll reveal the places of the eliminated trainees before revealing the twentieth place candidates.”

 

Minhyun grips the edges of his seat tightly. Twentieth seat is a position that could go either way, but for the trainees below him who are likely praying that their name will be withheld until the very last announcement, it has more value than anything else.

 

Names are called, the eliminated trainees share their feelings of either heartbreak or defiance. Sanggyun in particular straight-up tells the rest of the trainees, “We’re not eliminated because we failed,” a hefty reminder of the role that editing and favoritism plays.

 

The numbers keep ticking up, and Minhyun waits anxiously but Hyunbin’s name isn’t called. He remembers the model being eliminated at this stage last time, but the ranks get closer and closer to twenty and Hyunbin remains seated, staring at the screen.

 

After what seems like eternity, BoA says, “And now, it’s time to show the two candidates who are fighting for twentieth place.”

 

There are four people who’s names have yet to be called: Hyunbin, Yongguk, Guanlin, and Euiwoong. Minhyun can’t make out their expressions from here, but he can see Yongguk’s slumped figure and Hyunbin’s tense posture.

 

“The trainee who is 23rd…” BoA purposefully trails off, and several of the trainees on the pyramid groan.

 

“This is too much, really,” Minhyun hears Youngmin mutter under his breath.

 

“How cruel…” Sewoon adds.

 

Hyungseob’s eyes are fixed on  Euiwoong’s distant figure, hands squeezed together as he stares wordlessly at his labelmate.

 

“Yuehua Entertainment, Lee Euiwoong!”

 

Twisting, Minhyun sees Euiwoong’s resigned face on the huge screens as he stands to deliver some last words before leaving the program. He gives the normal platitudes about being thankful for being able to come this far, wishing the other trainees luck, etc. Hyungseob looks dismayed and is biting his bottom lip. He looks like he wants to jump off the pyramid and rush straight to Euiwoong but holds himself back.

 

Euiwoong is finishing his speech and impresses as he declares that he’ll debut in a group better than Produce 101’s final eleven, and Minhyun can’t help but let a smile spread over his lips at that. That fire and optimism is what he’ll need to survive in the industry, and it promises to serve him well in the future.

 

(A brief thought passes through his mind about why _he_ couldn’t think like that when Jonghyun didn’t make the top eleven, but Minhyun shakes it off. Their circumstances are different, and Minhyun is already here. There’s no time to think about these sorts of things.)

 

BoA smiles and thanks Euiwoong for his words before letting him sit back down. The cameras focus again on the remaining three, and Minhyun sees Hyunbin’s eyes dart back and forth nervously as Guanlin sits as still as a statue.

 

Yongguk still hasn’t lifted his head.

 

“The trainee who is the 22nd rank,” BoA says. Her eyebrows are drawn together, and her mouth barely moves as she looks down at the cue card. Minhyun knows that she hates it as much as the trainees do, this unnecessary and drawn-out process that only serves to remind everyone how they’re at the mercy of the producers’ whims. Whether that means the show’s producers or the national producers, Minhyun doesn’t know, but it’s actually a combination of the two that shapes their fates. Like Sewoon said, it’s cruel, and Minhyun hates it.

 

“It’s a very regretful position, but we will see who out of Kwon Hyunbin, Lai Guanlin, or Kim Yongguk trainee, will fill that seat.”

 

BoA doesn’t say it, but Minhyun knows that everyone is thinking the same thing: if it weren’t for Mnet, whoever’s name is called next would have made it. Should have made it.

 

“The trainee who is the 22nd rank, voted by the national producers is… Kim Yongguk!”

 

The name causes a slight stir among the trainees, but it doesn’t appear to be unexpected. Minhyun is the only one who reacts with a slight gasp that is easily covered as a cough, and that’s because he remembers Yongguk’s tears as he was forced to stand in front of everyone on that lightbox, a shallow mockery of the number one position, then walk back to his seat in tears. It appears that Yongguk won’t have to go through that this time, and he finally raises a head to reveal red, but dry, eyes.

 

“Trainee Kim Yongguk, please share your thoughts with us on your elimination,” BoA invites.

 

Yongguk gets to his feet and takes the microphone. His face is suddenly blown up on the large screen, and Minhyun can make out every wrinkle in his normally smooth face, placed there from disappointment.

 

“I…” Yongguk begins haltingly. He stops and lowers the microphone, blinking rapidly in a weak attempt to stop tears from falling. He tries again, lifting the mic only to bring it down again. “I… am sad,” he finally manages to eke out, voice tight with emotion. “Yeah. I’m really sad and disappointed.”

 

For some reason, those simple words make Minhyun’s heart ache. Yongguk looks lost, clutching his mic to his chest like it’s the only thing stopping him from falling to pieces. The cameras make sure to zoom in on his trembling hands as Yongguk finally gives up and bends his head to wipe his tears. Glancing around, Minhyun can also see Haknyeon with his hands tucked under his legs, tears freely falling from his eyes as he watches Yongguk.

 

It’s several long moments before Yongguk can speak again. His face tries to stay impassive, only a few stray tears escaping, but his trembling hands and voice give him away.

 

“I think I learned a lot, here on Produce 101.” Minhyun has to blink rapidly, his eyes suddenly wet and heart hurting. He can’t stop looking at Yongguk, every word spoken by the introspective trainee dropping like an anvil. “And even though it’s disappointing that I was eliminated at this stage, I have to believe it’s for the best. There are so many things in this life that are uncertainties. Even me coming on this program…” Here, Yongguk stops and swallows heavily. He takes several deep breaths through his nose before he can continue. “I was scared. But now I don’t want to leave. I don’t want this dream-like moment to end, but it is, and I… I have to accept that. Thank you, to all my fellow trainees and the trainers and the national producers for letting me come this far. I’ll work hard to repay your love in the future.”

 

A round of applause greets Yongguk as he finally takes his seat, and several trainees other that Haknyeon are wiping tears away. Minhyun lifts a hand to double check but luckily, his fingers come away dry. He’s not sure why he reacted this way since he wasn’t particularly close to Yongugk, but it’s still tragic to see someone fight so hard for their place in the show only to have the door slammed in their face at such a crucial moment.

 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though. The cameras linger on Yongguk’s face for several more seconds before swinging to Guanlin and Hyunbin, both of whom look like they’re ready to hurl.

 

Minhyun closes his eyes tightly. He already knows that a spot in the final eleven is reserved for Guanlin, and it hurts too much to look and see the hope in Hyunbin’s eyes as BoA officially announces him as one of the two candidates for twentieth place. When he opens them again, he can sense several pairs of eyes on him, and he turns to check who they are.

 

He sees Seongwoo first, and then Jaehwan only a few seats away. Daniel’s gaze is impossible to avoid from where it’s aimed downwards from the first place seat, and Jonghyun is looking at him with desperation.

 

Their question and distressed plea is clearly written across their faces, all of them all burning with a single question:

 

_Does Hyunbin make it?_

 

Minhyun swallows and looks away. He can’t answer that.

 

Below, Guanlin and Hyunbin make their way down their separate paths to the center stage. Climbing on top the lightboxes is no difficulty given their respective heights, and the two tall trainees stand with their hands clasped behind their backs.

 

Hyunbin sways back and forth nervously, biting his lower lip redder than any lip tint Daniel can put on. In contrast, Guanlin stands as stiff as a rock, only his eyes betraying any movement as they alternate between looking straight ahead and darting from side to side

 

BoA seems done with the entire thing, but Minhyun can see the directors frantically motioning for her to continue dragging it out, which she does with a sour expression on her face. A quick glance around tells Minhyun that most people seem to have the answer of who’s going to make it in their heads already.

 

Hyunbin has risen in popularity, certainly more that he had in the previous timeline, but is it enough to contest with the eventual seventh place in Wanna One? Minhyun doubts it. Hyunbin has dropped from his previous ranking, but Guanlin has dropped more. People attributed Guanlin’s drop to fan complacency last time, and there’s even more reason to drop him this time with Guanlin’s attitude last episode. Minhyun honestly hasn’t been tracking the internet closely enough to tell if netizens had chalked it up to evil editing or claimed it as a personality fault, but he’s pretty sure that the power of Guanlin’s face is too strong for fans to resist.

 

Seonho, for once in his life, isn’t bouncing around or shifting in his seat. Instead, he mirrors Guanlin, stock still and staring straight ahead. Minhyun can’t help but remember the words the two exchanged only a few days ago, on a night heavy with expectation and pressure. Two teenagers arguing in a crowded hallway, one promise.

 

Minhyun wonders if they’ll be able to keep it.

 

“The final trainee who will be attending the finale in a week,” BoA says finally. “The twentieth place who the national producers have chosen with their own hands.”

 

The room seems to draw a collective breath and hold it.

 

“It is…”

 

Minhyun sees Seonho close his eyes.

 

“YKG+, Kwon Hyunbin!”

 

Hyunbin’s face blows up on the screen. Hyunbin gapes up at it, swivels around to find Jonghyun who nods at him encouragingly, and promptly bursts into tears.

 

The trainees are in an uproar, turning to their neighbors to discuss the result with wide eyes.

 

“I can’t believe it.”

 

“Not Guanlin?”

 

“Congrats, Hyunbin! You deserve it!”

 

“This is such a twist…”

 

“Not Guanlin?”

 

“You seriously can’t predict anything with this show.”

 

“Why did this happen? _How_ did this happen?”

 

“Not Guanlin?”

 

That seems to be the question of the night, Minhyun thinks distantly as his mind whirs. Hyunbin has finished a teary speech and collapsed onto the twentieth seat chair, covering his face with one shaking hand while Guanlin stumbles back offstage, a shell-shocked expression on his face.

 

Nearby, Minhyun hears Seonho crying.

 

Why, why did this happen? There was no need for Mnet to change their ranking if they wanted to keep Guanlin in the top 22. He was 21st, surely a dangerous position, but one that would only galvanize his fans to vote harder and more aggressively. That was what had happened last time. That was what Minhyun expected to happen this time.

 

Instead, Guanlin is eliminated before the finale, one of the favorites from the very beginning who managed to captivate the public with his looks and personality despite his lack of training. He was someone who actually made the final eleven! Minhyun feels like the world is spinning around him. Why? There was no need for Mnet to promote this drama, and they could have simply kept the number the same in order to ensure that Guanlin would make the final group unless-

 

Unless Mnet decided they wanted to force fans’ hands so that only one Cube chick into the final group, and they decided that they want that to be Seonho rather than Guanlin. That Seonho’s pure hyung-loving image was more profitable than Guanlin’s.

 

The sound of Seonho crying has moved away, and Minhyun realizes with a start that they’ve started to film the montage of bidding farewell to the eliminated trainees. He makes his way down the stairs, steps unsteady,

 

Seonho is wrapped around Guanlin, arms encircling Guanlin’s head so his face is completely obscured. Seonho’s face is buried in Guanlin’s hair, and the soft sounds of his crying can be heard as Minhyun walks over, hovering around them. No other trainees have approached them either, all sensing that this is a not a moment for them to insert themselves into.

 

Seonho is saying something, voice muffled by Guanlin’s hair. It takes Minhyun’s utmost focus to make out what it is, and once he does, his heart just about shatters in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

 

One large hand comes up to grip at Seonho’s arm tightly. Seonho stops his repeated apologies long enough to cover Guanlin’s hand with his own.

 

“What’re you sorry for?” Guanlin’s voice is soft and low. He sounds so tired.

 

“I promised,” Seonho chokes out. His uniform is starting to wrinkle where Guanlin is gripping it. “You were supposed to go up, not me. I said I wouldn’t leave you behind, and instead I-”

 

He can’t say anymore and breaks down into a fresh round of tears. Guanlin remains silent, face hidden by Seonho’s arms. The hand on Seonho’s sleeve loosens bit by bit, fingers untangling themselves from stiff fabric, before they finally fall to hang limply by Guanlin’s side.

 

Minhyun can’t watch anymore.

 

He turns and begins walking away, intending to comfort or congratulate someone, he doesn’t care which. He catches sight of a dejected Kenta and moves in his direction, intending to comfort the Japanese trainee, but stops in his tracks.

 

Jonghyun is looking at him from across the room. Their eyes lock, and Minhyun’s throat tightens. His limbs are suddenly like stone, legs frozen to the ground as they fail to move according to Minhyun’s original intention. Jonghyun’s stare arrests him, forces him to stay in place. They look fixedly at one another, neither one budging, though Minhyun couldn’t move even if he wanted too. The faint chatter from other trainees fades into the background, and Minhyun is reminded of a few nights ago, when he and Jonghyun had watched the stars together. Only a week or so ago, yet it feels so far away. It was peaceful, back then, and happy.

 

It is not anymore. The finale is in a week. For better or for worse, all of Nu’est currently sits right outside the top eleven, just like he wanted, and none of them have suffered besmirched reputations on their way to this place. In just a few hours, they’ll pick their final positions and songs for the concert and begin the arduous process of picking a center, rehearsing, recording. Rinse and repeat. In a week, they’ll stand on stage to the backdrop of thousands of hysterically screaming fans, faced with that ever-looming pyramid. Everything will end.

 

A sinking feeling that Minhyun has become all too familiar with sits heavy in his gut. It seems like it’s there to stay.

 

He can still hear Seonho crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's the penultimate chapter. Raise your hand if you saw this coming, then put it down if you're worried about the next chapter like I am!! Haha, ha... anyways...


	12. Finale

11

 

Minhyun supposes it’s only fitting that one of his last nights before the finale is spent staring up at the bottom of the top bunk. It’s happened so many times before it’s practically a trope at this point, and Minhyun shifts to his side to stare at the wall instead, just for a change of pace.

 

The dorm feels dark and unfamiliar, even if Minhyun has spent around four months sleeping there. Maybe it’s because the lights have been unanimously dimmed much earlier than previous nights for the past week, everyone worn to the bone with exhaustion from having to learn at least two new songs while rehearsing the staging for the finale. Maybe it’s because the trainees are starting to realizes that their time on the show is coming to an end, and whatever popularity they gained is now going to be tested in the real world.

 

Or, Minhyun reflects, maybe it’s because of the conspicuous lack of a certain towering Taiwanese trainee.

 

Guanlin’s absence has taken its toll on the trainees, perhaps more so than expected. Minhyun certainly hadn’t expected the show’s shift in tone after Guanlin’s elimination, nor did he expect to see it spread so widely. Obviously, Seonho has been dejected and low-energy for the better part of the week, putting in just enough effort to learn the parts but inconsolable for most of the other filming. Even Minhyun’s best efforts to act as a body pillow for him have failed to elicit a smile from him.

 

Seonho’s lack of enthusiasm has spread to the other trainees, depite everyone’s best efforts to stay upbeat. Dongho is sulking because he doesn’t have Guanlin to dote on anymore, the younger trainees such as Daehwi and Samuel are noticeably less bright, and filming’s general atmosphere has sunkedn significantly.

 

Although Minhyun’s memory of his previous time on the show has faded, he still remembers the stark juxtaposition between the bright and optimistic atmosphere before the last filming and the despair he’d felt following it. This, he thinks, is not the same, and it is one thing that he doesn’t like. He’s not sure how filming is going for the Super Hot team, but Hands on Me is subdued, even though Seongwoo and Jaehwan try their best to liven up the atmosphere.

 

Minhyun doesn’t like it.

 

To him, one of the defining characteristics of Produce 101 last time was that the trainees became genuinely close by the time it was over, seeing each other’s struggles and encouraging one another. He may have mucked some of his relationships up at the beginning, but he’d gotten close, maybe even closer, to his friends as a result. He could see the same result happening for the rest of the trainees, detached as he was for the first few weeks of filming, and before long, getting up wasn’t as intimidating as it’d.

 

It’s all different now. Tensions are running high as the finale approaches, and the trainees- no, his _friends_ , begin shying away from one another. They’re technically not allowed to use social media, but that doesn’t stop anyone from scouring the internet for news of themselves, reading the thousands of articles that pore out about how unexpected Guanlin’s elimination was. In the wake of the released articles, the trainees start snapping at one another, lashing out unconsciously as apologies become more and more forced.

 

This didn’t happen last time.

 

Though he tries his best, there’s only so much Minhyun can take before he feels his own temper fraying at the edges. He might be able to get away with blaming his newfound sullenness on time travel, but it doesn’t matter when the end result is still stomping away angrily from Daniel, Seongwoo, Youngmin- whoever it is that manages to annoy him at that moment. Even Jonghyun, who tries his best to mediate and stop fights from breaking out, has to bite his tongue a few times. Minhyun sees him visibly take several deep breaths to calm himself down and is reminded that even though Jonghyun is known as a kind and gentle leader, he’s not a pushover.

 

It’s with that thought that Minhyun approaches him one day, crossing the boundary between the Hands on Me and Super Hot team during one of their breaks. The sad thing is that even though it’s called a break, hardly anyone takes the time to rest. Instead, they run through their choreography, only stopping for water breaks. As expected, when Minhyun walks into the room, only three or four trainees are actually relaxing on the floor while the rest continue staring at themselves in the mirror as the beat pounds incessantly in the background. Samuel in particular seems stressed, his shirt soaked through with sweat and his eyes focused. Minhyun hovers by him before deciding not to bother.

 

He walks over to Jonghyun dancing alone in the corner and taps his shoulder. When Jonghyun whirls around to face him, startled, Minhyun has to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

 

“Can we talk?” He enunciates his words so that Jonghyun can make out what he’s saying.

 

Jonghyun nods, and the two of them make their way outside of the room. Not even Dongho bothers seeing them out or shouting a greeting, and Minhyun grimaces. The pressure is unbearable.

 

They make their way outside the room and to a little hallway, isolated and normally off-boundaries to the trainees. Minhyun knows that they’ll get scolded by the staff if they get caught, and he can tell that Jonghyun does too from the alarmed look in his eyes.

 

“I’ll be quick,” he promises as he leads Jonghyun down.

 

“You better be,” Jonghyun retorts halfheartedly. When they settle themselves in a corner undetectable by cameras, he asks, “So? What is this about?”

 

Minhyun tries to get straight to the point. “Have you noticed how bad the atmosphere is?”

 

“So?” Jonghyun rakes a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The action makes his hair spike up uncontrollably, creating small cowlicks that decorate the top of his head and exposing a (slightly) receding hairline. “It’s to be expected, everyone is stressed, and last elimination was a sharp reminder that anything can happen no matter how safe you think you are. Why shouldn’t everyone be worried?”

 

“It’s one thing to be worried, another to avoid conversation like people have been doing,” Minhyun says. “I get that everyone is worried, I am too, but don’t you think it’s kind of inexcusable to have all these fights?”

 

“Fights happen, they happen all the time,” Jonghyun says. “Remember the group battles? Couldn’t get through a single day without arguing. Even you and Seongwoo had a confrontation in the bathroom of all places.”

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Minhyun says, trying to push back. “I know everyone is upset because Guanlin-”

 

“Don’t.” Jonghyun interrupts, eyes sharp and cold. It’s the first time Minhyun has seen such a dark expression on his face, and he startles back. “Everyone has their own reasons to be upset, it doesn’t have to be because of Guanlin. He’s just one factor in a larger picture.”

 

An unsteady feeling twists up Minhyun’s gut. “Okay,” he says uncertainly. “I get that. But it is a factor.”

 

Nothing changes in Jonghyun’s face, so Minhyun says carefully, “At this point in the program last time-”

 

Jonghyun makes an aborted noise, like he wants to say something and then cuts himself off. When Minhyun waits for him to say something, Jonghyun tightly gestures for him to continue.

 

“At this point in the program last time,” Minhyun begins again. “The atmosphere wasn’t like this. You can say all you want about the finale approaching and people being stressed, but we were all so close by this point last time that that hardly mattered. Things are obviously different this time around, like Guanlin getting eliminated, but I can tell the difference, and I don’t like it. It’s so much worse this time, even toxic.”

 

Jonghyun is silent as Minhyun finishes, and after a few seconds of silence, says, “And? What do you want me to do about it?”

 

Minhyun is taken aback. “I don’t- What do you mean?”

 

“Exactly what I said, don’t play obtuse.” Jonghyun sounds genuinely annoyed now, in a tone that Minhyun hardly ever hears from him and never directed at himself. “You brought me here to talk and now you want me to solve the problem, right?”

 

“I mean, I didn’t come with just that, but it’d be nice.” Minhyun fumbles, trying to find his feet again. “I think everyone respects you and looks up to you, so-”

 

“-you want me do some grand gesture, give some heartwarming speech that makes everyone have a change of heart and be all friendly with one another again, right?” Jonghyun barks out a harsh laugh that echoes around the small hallway before disappearing with Minhyun’s sharp intake. “Sorry, Minhyun, I can’t do that.”

 

“Why not?” Minhyun asks. “I not asking rhetorically, I’m genuinely confused. You’re the closest thing to a leader we have- no, you _are_ the leader, and if anyone is going to save-”

 

“I don’t want to!”

 

Jonghyun breathes heavily through his nose after his shout. The outburst startles Minhyun silent, and he stares at his leader with wide eyes. Jonghyun makes a strangled, frustrated sound, and whirls around, entire body tense like a coiled spring. It’s several moments before he can speak again, voice tight and harsh.

 

“Why am I responsible for everyone?” he demands, still faced away from Minhyun. “Why should I make sure everyone is okay? I didn’t ask for this responsibility to be on my shoulders! The last time I checked, signing up for this program didn’t come with a little check box that said, ‘Oh, I now accept all responsibility for the 101 trainees that will be competing.’ Weve signed some crappy contract terms before, but I don’t remember that being one of the clauses. Tell me, Minhyun, how much longer should I give up pieces of myself for the sake of others while receiving nothing in return? I’m only human, and I can’t go on like this.”

 

“Even you, dragging me out like this: you just want me to take care of all your problems. You try to guilt trip me by telling me how much everyone trusts me, making it seem like it’s my fault if everyone doesn’t return to your normal, which, by the way, is no one else’s normal. You say you time traveled, and sure, fine, I believe you, but you’re not the only one suffering. You say you came back to help Nu’est? From what I see, you’re only here to help yourself and push all the actual responsibility onto others.”

 

“That’s not true-”

 

“Isn’t it? If it’s not that, then what is all this, this cornering me, expecting me to take responsibility? I’m not an idiot, Minhyun, and I know you, maybe even better than you know yourself. You didn’t come back to help Nu’est; you came back to make yourself feel better. And if you want everyone else to feel better, don’t ask me.”

 

Jonghyun stops his tirade, breathing hard, while Minhyun stares. He doesn’t think he can say anything in response to Jonghyun but opens his mouth to try anyway. Jonghyun’s not finished though, and he starts talking again. This time, however, the anger has seeped out of his voice, leaving behind only defeat.

 

“I’m tired, Minhyun,” he says simply. “My heart is too hard to take care of anyone other than myself right now. I know, I know I should. I know the way I’m acting right now isn’t fair to you or anyone else, but life has never been fair to me either. It’s too much to ask me to keep doing this. You’re desperate for everyone to get along, pretend their future isn’t hanging on the line? Do it yourself if you want it so badly.”

 

Jonghyun doesn’t wait for Minhyun’s reply and leaves. Not that Minhyun could say anything since he’s still stunned into silence. He’s never seen Jonghyun like that before nor heard anything close to that level of hatred and bitterness from his mouth. Jonghyun has been pessimistic, self-deprecating, depressed, anxious, and many more negative things, but never angry like that. Maybe everyone has a time to break, and Minhyun just made the mistake of thinking that Jonghyun wouldn’t.

 

He stands in the hallway, long after his scheduled break is over. If it was the previous timeline, or even just a week before, Minhyun would say that people would start looking for him around now. Daniel or Sewoon, Jaehwan probably, even Woojin would come to make sure he was doing okay and then follow up with gentle teasing about his lack of time-keeping skills. Now, though, he doesn’t know.

 

Minhyun can’t linger too long, however, and he makes his way back to the practice room in a daze. Looking inside, it seems that not a single person has taken note of his absence. They’re all practicing hard, gyrating their hips toward the mirror and singing under their breathes. Occasionally, they bump into one another, and instead of laughing about it like Minhyun remembers they would, they only scowl in one another’s direction and continue their individual practice. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the cameramen shaking their heads at one another, probably wonder how this will be received by audiences who have grown accustomed to seeing the closeness between the trainees as a major selling point in the show. It’s a headache, not just for Minhyun but also for the producers, he’s sure.

 

Watching the trainees who have become his friends, not just once but twice, work so hard and with so little enjoyment is painful. Seeing their bitter expressions, so far away from the happiness and laughter that had been there only days ago, makes his heart break. He thinks back to Jonghyun’s words just a few minutes ago, how life is unfair, and suddenly, Minhyun feels the world shift under his feet.

 

He stops dithering about outside the practice room and barges in with a loud slam that penetrates the bass booming through the studio. Everyone’s heads turn in his direction, but Minhyun ignores their unfocused gazes as he marches over to the audio station and unplugs it.

 

“What the-”

 

“What’s going on, why’d the music stop-”

 

“Minhyun, what are you doing?”

 

“Hey! Plug that back in!”

 

Minhyun ignores it all. Their protests, confusion, anger… none of that matters right now. The music has finally stopped, and he drops the chord from his hands as he turns to face his team. They’re looking at him with varying degrees of emotion. Jihoon’s forehead is creased, and Minhyun can clearly read the anger in his eyes. Even so, Jihoon’s back is turned to the cameras from every angle so they can’t read the negativity on his face, and Minhyun finds himself reluctantly impressed. Jihoon is a mystery, even to him, because the so-called “wink boy” kept himself so tightly regulated that he never showed a slip of anger on the show.

 

Now, though, Minhyun can see what he looks like upset.

 

“What’s going on, hyung?” Jihoon asks evenly. “Why’d you do that?”

 

From behind Jihoon, Jinyoung is looking around with the panicked expression so often found on his face, and Woojin is nervously gesturing to the cameras as if he’s worried that Minhyun doesn’t know he’s being recorded. Oh, don’t worry, Minhyun thinks. He knows that the cameras are on. He knows they’re pointed at him and eagerly eating up the drama about to unfold. This action isn’t even risky, it’s basically suicidal. He can only hope that this is a gamble that will pay off.

 

“We’re not practicing anymore,” he says, heart beating a staccato tattoo against his chest. “And the other team isn’t either.”

 

“It’s not break again already-” Dongho starts, but when Minhyun makes eye contact with him, he falls silent. He tilts his head, a barely perceptible nod that acknowledges Minhyun. That small gesture makes Minhyun unspeakably grateful as Dongho places his trust in him, even with an action as unexpected as this.

 

“No, it’s not break,” he agrees. “Follow me.”

 

With that, he turns on his heels and heads to the other group’s practice room.

 

Minhyun doesn’t really expect the team to follow him. After all, he’s just gone missing from practice for several minutes and then returned to pull out the stereo like a madman before demanding that they go with him with no explanation. It’s ridiculous, unreasonable, and the last thing that a person in their right state of mind would do, but Minhyun does it anyway.

 

And they follow him.

 

The sound of footsteps makes its way to Minhyun’s ears when he’s halfway down the hallway, and he tilts his head slightly, expecting only the cameras behind him, but instead, he’s greeted by the sight of all nine of the rest of the Hands on Me team hot on his heels. Albeit, some look confused, and others have lingering expressions of anger on their faces, but they’re following him. Something swells in Minhyun’s heart, and he feels a sudden rush of affection for this group of incredible boys who have been through so much. He has to do his best not to let them down.

 

He reaches the Super Hot practice room and repeats the same thing he did before. He bangs open the door, storms past the confused members, and forcibly pulls the plug from their sound system. The cheery notes cut off abruptly, and Minhyun is met with the same astounded expressions as before. Looking around, he sees Jonghyun frozen in the midst of a crouching dance move that makes his pose unintentionally hilarious.

 

“What’s happening?” Samuel asks warily.

 

“Hyung,” Hyunbin says, eyes pleading for an explanation. Minhyun doesn’t know what his face looks like right now, back turned to the mirror, but it must not look good from how Hyunbin looks borderline terrified. “What are you doing?”

 

Minhyun ignores him. “Are we all here?” he asks instead. The trainees look around, and small muters of agreement rise. Minhyun does his own quick scan before nodding approvingly. “Good.”

 

“Are you ever going to tell us what’s going on?” Seongwoo asks scathingly from the back, Daniel close behind him. His arms are crossed against his chest, a slight scowl on his face. “Or are you just going play the mysterious character until we drop dead from exhaustion?”

 

“If you were going to drop dead from exhaustion, it wouldn’t be because of me,” Minhyun shoots back. “It’d be because you’re all too busy practicing to take a look around and notice the people around you!”

 

“Is this what this is about?” Jisung pipes up. His tone isn’t accusatory at all, and is instead placating as he says, “Minhyun, we’re all stressed, but this kind of behavior is a little bit over the line and unnecessarily dramatic, don’t you think? We can talk it over in the dorms-”

 

“No,” Minhyun says. “Why don’t we talk it over now?”

 

Minhyun rubs his temple tiredly. “Look, this isn’t easy for anyone,” he starts. “But come on, guys, we’re better than this. Snapping at one another, arguing, not spending time with one another outside the practice room? That’s not us. That’s not how we got to know one another. That’s not we became companions.”

 

Silence falls, and no one moves. Minhyun sighs and continues. “Can we talk this over?” he asks. “Right here, right now, not hiding anything? It’s impossible for one person to share the burden on their own, but maybe we can share it with one another.”

 

Again, no one moves, and Minhyun sighs again. He ignores the cameras greedily drinking up every drop of this standoff and tries to pretend that it’s just them, in this room. How can he change the atmosphere and bring everyone together again?

 

It’s a bad moment to realize that Minhyun doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he has it anyway. Casting a critical eye about the room, Minhyun makes eye contact with Jonghyun standing in the corner, huddled up with his arms hugging himself. Jonghyun is their leader, no matter how he protests, and Minhyun finds himself at a loss when he’s standing in front of all these trainees like this. What would Jonghyun do?

 

_Do it yourself if you want it so badly._

Jonghyun’s voice comes back to him suddenly, and Minhyun closes his eyes briefly. That’s right, he can’t keep relying on Jonghyun. Even last time, when he was in the final eleven and Jonghyun wasn’t- part of the reason why that was so jarring and traumatizing is because Minhyun never imagined a world where that could be a possible. Jonghyun has been his rock for so long, a steady presence in the midst of whatever turbulence and storms the world could throw at them, and it seemed impossible that Minhyun could ever be without him. But that’s what happened.

 

Has Minhyun changed since then? Has he grown, become able to handle things differently? Has his person expanded and become more capable?

 

He suddenly finds he doesn’t know the answer to those questions.

 

But even that lends him a bit of strength, and Minhyun thinks back to the very first day he realized he’d come back, the mingled terror and hope that had given him enough determination to push this far. Back then, his only goal had been Nu’est. His group had been the only thing in his mind as he fought against everything, struggled to find a place for himself in this new reality where he had the power to change things. But that’s changed. Ever since Minhyun had the realization in the middle of position evaluations that these people were no longer strangers and that he couldn’t, wouldn’t throw them aside for the sake of his own comfort. He didn’t even realize how much his fellow trainees had helped him, not just in this timeline but the first time. Would it have been so bad, he wonders, to have grown alongside ten other people, promoted with them and become known under one name? Is life truly so black and white that he can only accept the ultimatum he’d laid down for himself?

 

“-hyun. Minhyun!”

 

He’s shaken back to reality by Minki’s worried voice, and Minhyun forces himself to focus on the small crowd of trainees in front of him. Their expressions of anger have largely melted into ones of concern, and Minhyun realizes with a start that he must have been lost in his thoughts for a few minutes.

 

He and Jonghyun meet eyes again, and this time, Minhyun is able to meet him with a smile. What would Jonghyun do? Forget that. It’s time that Minhyun took control of his own agency. And he will.

 

“When I first came on this program, I had no intentions of getting to know you all,” he says bluntly. Several gasps fall from the younger trainees’ lips, and Minhyun sees Jaehwan narrow his eyes in his direction. He can almost hear the whir of camera lens zooming in closer to his face, but he ignores it and pushes on. “I only cared about my team and making sure we could do the best we could. It was embarrassing, to a degree that you can’t even imagine. When we stood there as trainees again in front of you all, listening to your whispers, I wanted to hide and go away and never appear again. Crying-” He quirks a lip up at that. “Crying just made it worse.”

 

Youngmin makes an aborted movement, as if to come forward, but Minhyun stops him and plows on.

 

“I spent the first few weeks stressed beyond belief. I didn’t talk to people. I didn’t want to get to know people. I thought that it was only up to me to make sure that my brothers succeeded, and I overthought every little detail. I thought that this was my last chance and that I couldn’t fail. Looking back, I almost wanted to die.”

 

As he speaks, those weeks come flooding back in vivid memory, and from the looks on Hyunbin, Daniel, Seongwoo, Jaehwan, and Jonghyun’s faces, he can tell that they’re remembering too. The others are listening in rapt attention, Hyungseob clutching Woojin’s shirt and Daehwi with his arms around Jinyoung’s neck.

 

Minhyun can’t see Seonho’s face from where its tilted to the ground.

 

“People thought I was rude. I even remember someone telling me that I was too cold and treating everyone like extras.” Seongwoo’s gaze turns sharp and calculating, and Minhyun knows he’s remembering their bathroom confrontation the same way that he is. “But he was right. The truth is, and this doesn’t excuse any of my actions, but the truth is that I was really, really lonely.” He pauses, thinking. “Yeah. I was so lonely back then.”

 

“Hyung,” Hyunbin chokes out, so quietly that Minhyun almost doesn’t hear it. The tall model is biting his lip, tears openly dripping down his face, and Minhyun feels sorry as he realizes that he’s the one who did that to Hyunbin. But he has to continue.

 

“You know what saved me back then? You know what made me open up and started making me view my time on this program as a blessing rather than a curse?” Minhyun makes sure he meets each and every one of his friend’s eyes as he says this. “You all. The people who tried to talk to me, the people who trusted me and looked up to me, the people who were willing to talk or yell sense into me. That made me realize that I wasn’t alone and that no matter what I was going through, I had people besides me.”

 

Suddenly, his throat feels too tight, and his eyes are burning. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths, recomposing himself, and eventually he’s able to start speaking again. Or, at least he thinks he is, because the next words that come from his mouth are choked.

 

“I don’t regret a thing,” Minhyun says. “Coming here, meeting you all… Practicing late into the night, laughing late into the night, all of that was worth it. So please, please, please, take a look. At yourselves. At the people who’ve become your brothers. We’re in the final week of Produce 101. Our futures are at stake, yes, but do we have to end this on such a bitter and regretful note? One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that regrets are the worst thing to hold onto. I don’t regret a thing,” he repeats, and this time, he locks eyes with Jonghyun. “And I don’t want any of us to.”

 

He finishes with only a few tear tracks down his face, and you know what, he’ll count that as a success considering the multiple previous times he’s cried. A few of the other trainees are crying now too, Daehwi hiding his face in Jinyoung’s shoulder and Sewoon wiping at his eyes. The atmosphere has shifted, Minhyun notes, from the cold and tense cloud to something warmer.

 

Jonghyun wouldn’t have done it this way. Jonghyun would have found a gentler way, maybe talked to people one on one. He certainly wouldn’t have forcibly stopped the music or demanded people listen to him the way Minhyun did, but isn’t that the point? This is Minhyun’s way, not Jonghyun’s. This is Minhyun’s answer.

 

After a few beats, Minhyun realizes that other trainees are still looking at him expectantly. Awkardly, Minhyun coughs into his fist and feels his ears turn red as he says, lamely, “That’s all I wanted to tell you guys, uh… We can probably go back to practice now. Unless any of you have anything to add.”

 

“I do.”

 

The words belong to Seongwoo who has one hand raised with a determined expression. Youngmin next to him has an eyebrow raised, as if asking, _dude, what are you doing? You’re ruining the emotional mood that Minhyun created_ , and, alright, that might be more Minhyun putting his own thoughts into Youngmin’s mind, but it’s alright. He nods at Seongwoo to speak.

 

“I have something to add,” Seongoo announces grandiosely, and Minhyun’s chest immediately loosens. He knows that tone of voice, and if the grin on Daniel’s face is anything to go by, they’re about to be subjected to some of Seongwoo’s variety skills. “Not only would I like to add, but I’d like to say that Minhyun has healed the _division_ in our ranks and also _multiplied_ our love in the process. This doesn’t _subtract_ from our sincerity, and in fact, it _,_ wait for it, _adds_ a layer of depth-”

 

“Oh my goodness, is he finished yet?”

 

“And that,” Seongwoo closes with a flourish, “Is what I wanted to add!”

 

“Thank you, Seongwoo,” Minhyun says dryly, but Seongwoo has accomplished his goal as the trainees burst into loud laughter, an almost unfamiliar sound following days of tension. Samuel asks Daehwi, “Wait, I don’t get it,” while Daehwi explains, “He was making a math pun because Minhyun asked if anyone wanted to add something-” while Daniel affectionately latches onto Seongwoo.

 

Seongwoo is truly an indispensable part of the show, Minhyun thinks fondly, and he’s successfully lightened the mood while securing himself screentime. Minhyun doesn’t think a day will come when Seongwoo stops surprising him with his sense, both in terms of humor and emotional sensitivity.

 

The trainees eventually disperse while chatting and take the cameras with them back to their respective practice rooms. Minhyun starts heading back to his own room, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. It’s Jonghyun, and he smiles a bit tentatively at him.

 

“I wanted to say sorry,” he says, softly but clearly and making direct eye contact with Minhyun. “For the way I acted before. It wasn’t fair of me to lash out at you like that.”

 

Minhyun doesn’t wave it off like he would’ve and instead takes a moment to carefully consider this. “I forgive you,” he says easily. “But yeah, you shouldn’t have done that. Still, it worked out since it got me thinking about how I should take responsibility and how I wasn’t the center of the world. Your mistake still bore fruit in the end.”

 

This time, Jonghyun’s smile is blinding. “That’s good. That’s really good, Minhyun.”

 

Minhyun grins. “Are you ready for the finale?” he asks, and for once, those words aren’t accompanied by soul-wrenching dread.

 

Jonghyun hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think I was, and I still don’t think I am, but I think it’s a little better,” he says. “I feel a bit more peaceful now.”

 

“Yeah,” Minhyun says, staring at Jonghyun. “You know what? Me too.”

 

 

 

 

Here’s what Minhyun has realized after two finales: rehearsal takes ages to finish, everyone is always exhausted by the end, but that’s no match for the length of the actual thing.

 

Rehearsal goes pretty smoothly as far as Minhyun is concerned. After all, they get through all their songs with relatively little problems, and the crew is kind enough to let them take plenty of breaks. The sight of the returned trainees is also enough to lift everyone’s spirits, laughing and hugging going around as people reunite with their eliminated friends.

 

Minhyun watches Seonho go around enthusiastically hugging everyone with his previous fervor, basically attacking anyone who makes eye contact with him. His spirits have lifted considerably since the aborted practice where Minhyun gave a mini monologue, and now Seonho seems back to his normal lovable self. Everyone can tell when Seonho catches sight of Guanlin because there’s a piercing yell that cuts through everyone’s conversations as Seonho throws himself at Guanlin and hugs him so tightly the Taiwanese boy’s face goes a little purple. It’s a heartwarming sight, and Minhyun chuckles as he watches.

 

Someone comes up behind him and asks, “How’re you feeling?

 

It’s Jonghyun, and Minhyun turns to face him with a small grin.

 

“You know what? Actually, not too bad,” he responds. “I don’t really know what to expect, but I’m glad that everyone at least seems to be in a better mood than before. I don’t know how I would’ve survived if we were here and everyone was still that tense.”

 

Jonghyun chuckles. “Me neither,” he admits, “and it’s thanks to you that we aren’t.”

 

Minhyun waves him away with one hand, tucking the other into his trouser pocket. “I just said what I wanted to say, it’s not that big of a deal. Anyone could’ve done it.”

 

“Anyone could’ve done it, but you’re the one who actually did,” Jonghyun presses. “that deserves some credit, don’t you think?”

 

“Eh.” Minhyun shrugs. “Whether I get it or not doesn’t matter to me. As long as everyone is happy.”

 

Jonghyun fixes his bright eyes at him. “You’ve changed,” he observes, not unkindly. “I think the Minhyun at the start of this all wouldn’t have said that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you probably already know this. After all, you’re the one who basically exposed yourself in front of everyone else, but you were so focused on the end result you were willing to throw others to the side for the sake of that. IT’s not a bad thing, and I think that trait can bring about some really good results for the people you love, but it closes you off to the love of other people. I don’t see that now.”

 

Minhyun shifts a bit as he watches Jonghyun. They’re standing at the edge of the stage to the backdrop of the other trainees loudly laughing and messing with one another. Minhyun is suddenly reminded of the concept evaluation stages, where he stood and stared out into the darkness between him and the fans, where he watched Jonghyun take a stand and declare his message for everyone to hear.

 

“We’ve come a long way since then,” he says out loud.

 

Jonghyun doesn’t ask him to specify from what time and instead just nods in agreement. “We really have,” he says softly.

 

They don’t say anything for a while, just standing side by side. It feels familiar, standing next to Jonghyun like this, and Minhyun basks in the feeling of having his closest friend and brother by his side. HE doesn’t know how much longer he has to enjoy this feeling, and he wants to remember how it feels while he can.

 

It’s not like he thought that he’d never see Jonghyun again after the last time, when he made the top eleven and Jonghyun didn’t, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. He knew how hectic his schedule would be, even knew that objectively it was a good thing since that meant that he could help contribute to paying off Nu’est’s debt, as much as he could. It wasn’t like he’d never see Jonghyun again either, nor the rest of his Nu’est members. There would be breaks, short and rare as they were, and there would be shared stages, featurings, and more. But the uncertainty, the uncertainties that made Minhyun unable to fall asleep at night were the ones that lingered with him.

 

“What do you think will happen tonight?” Jonghyun asks, breaking Minhyun from his thoughts.

 

Minhyun considers the question, hands still resting in his pockets. He can hear Daniel yelling somewhere in the distance, followed by Seongwoo’s mocking voice and Jaehwan’s high-pitched laugh. Minki is hanging out with is rabbit squad, watching fondly as the younger kids fool around and act cute to one another. Dongho is surrounded by Guanlin and Seonho, the latter giving him a hug while the former shyly smiles, showing off his gummy smile.

 

These are all people that Minhuyn loves and cares for. They’re all standing beside him now, on this final Produce 101 stage. Peace settles over Minhyun then, a deep feeling of contentment that he hasn’t felt in such a tangible manner for a long time. Regardless of the final results tonight, they all have their own futures to return to, their own storylines that they’re the main characters off.

 

Minhyun closes his eyes.

 

“I don’t know,” he admits to Jonghyun. “But I think… I think that finally, I’m okay with whatever happens.”

 

“You won’t go back to try it a third time if things don’t go well?” Jonghyun asks with an edge of teasing and edge of genuine concern.

 

Minhyun shakes his head. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually have any control over that,” he says playfully before turning sober again. “But no, I don’t think so. At the very least, I won’t wish for it.”

 

“That’s good. I think two times is enough to drive someone nearly crazy, imagine three times.”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m trying not to do.”

 

With that settled, the two rejoin the rest of the trainees. They fool around for a bit before being called for one final rehearsal of their stages. Those go smoothly, everyone looking and sounding their best, and before Minhyun knows it, the time of the actual finale is here.

 

Backstage feels empty with only twenty of them instead of the large numbers he’s used to, and Minhyun huddles with the rest of the trainees, some gnawing at their fingers nervously, other consciously fixing their hair and trying not to mess up their makeup. Looking around, he can read the nerves on everyone’s face, but Seongwoo’s face in particular makes it seem like he’s about to pass out.

 

Minhyun makes his way through the trainees to stand by Seongwoo’s side. For once, Daniel has one arm slung over Jaehwan’s shoulders rather than standing by Seongwoo, and Minhyun takes the moment to talk to Seongwoo privately.

 

“Doing okay? He asks quietly.

 

Seongwoo jumps in place, clearly startled by the few words and showing that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings at all. That’s why the, “I’m fine,” sounds fake coming from his mouth, and Minhyun quirks an eyebrow at him.

 

Seongwoo holds out stubbornly for a few seconds before caving. “Alright, fine, I think I’m gonna throw up.” He lifts one hand as if to bite his nails before lowering it. “What if I don’t make it? This is my last chance.”

 

Minhyun wants to reassure him, to promise that he’ll be in the final eleven, even in the top five, but he knows now that his promises aren’t sure. Instead, he says, “I never thnked you, you know.”

 

“Thanked me for what?”

 

“For shouting some sense into me that first evaluation.” Minhyun twists the corner of his mouth into a smile. “In that bathroom. I think if you hadn’t done that, it would’ve taken me a lot longer to get my head screwed on straight.”

 

“Oh, that?” Seongwoo snorts. “That wasn’t a big deal. I just said what needed to be said, anyone could’ve done it.”

 

For some reason, this conversation is starting to feel familiar. “But you actually said it,” Minhyun says, borrowing Jonghyun’s words. “And that deserves some praise.”

 

The tips of Seongwoo’s ears turn pink. “Whatever,” he says sullenly, trying to fight off the blush crawling across his face.

 

Mission accomplished, Minhyun turns back, satisfied, and listens to the roar of the crowd in front of the giant screen. The trainees are allowed to stand a bit longer before they’re ushered into their starting positions.

 

Donning that familiar gray uniform, standing in that familiar position, hands ready to be raised into a familiar triangle, Minhyun let’s himself smile.

 

The finale begins.

 

They perform Nayana with Daniel as the center, and it goes well. The Super Hot team performs, and it goes well. The Hands on Me team follows right after, and it goes well. They sing Always, people cry, and it goes well. And then, with that, they stand and wait for fate’s verdict.

 

Time seems to pass like molasses for Minhyun. He feels like he’s watching the entire experience from outside of his own body. The boom of BoA’s mike seems distance and blurry, and he feels oddly relaxed as everyone tenses up.

 

They start from number 10 as Mnet is wont to do, and unlike last time, Sungwoon goes up first. Minhyun automatically brings his hands together, but he still feels weirdly dazed. Even when BoA announces that the next rank is number nine, the number that’s been tattooed onto Minhyun’s heart, he remains in that state.

 

Nine is Jisung, one spot lower than last time, but still a position that he receives with the same touched tears as last time. Eight goes to Seonho, who seems reluctant to leave his spot and even after he gives his speech is still looking over at Guanlin’s spot in the trainee audience section. The cameras grace Guanlin with a closeup, and he gives Seonho a genuine thumbs up.

 

Seventh goes to a shocked Hyunbin who can barely stop himself from running down the aisle, tripping over his feet and words as he tries to find an appropriate display for his gratitude. Woojin manages to keep his number six final rank, and Seongwoo screams in exultation when he hears his own name called for fifth. Jaehwan solidifies his spot as Wanna One’s main vocal, and the next three ranks follow quickly in the same order as before: Daehwi, Jihoon, and Daniel.

 

And then, the eleventh place candidates are announced.

 

Minhyun feels himself slowly settling into his body again. The screams from the fans are suddenly close and present in his ears as soon as the four faces appear on the huge screens, and Minhyun lifts his eyes to see who the candidates are.

 

He can’t help but laugh when he sees Minki, Dongho, Jonghyun, and his own face there.

 

The screams are overwhelming. Some people are crying, and the trainees around Minhyun gather into a tight huddle with the Nu’est members in the middle. Minki is crying, and Dongho sets his jaw.

 

“As long as one of us makes it, we all make it,” he says determinedly, shouting to be heard over the crowd. “This is good.”

 

Jonghyun doesn’t say anything and instead pulls them all in closer for a tighter embrace. They stand like that, four people linked together by arms and memories and trials and wait for the verdict to fall.  Four people who are so close to one another, only to have only one person make it and leave the rest behind. No doubt, their fans are somewhere screaming foul right now, if the cries from the audiences are anything to go by. Hyunbin and Seonho on the pyramid are noticeably distressed, and Daniel, Seongwoo, and Jaehwan have gotten up from their seats to crane their necks for a better view.

 

It might seem like a tragedy to everyone watching. It might’ve felt like a tragedy to Minhyun- no, it was a tragedy, a story with a sad ending to Minhyun the last time he stood in this position. It’s a funny thing, to realize that he worked so hard and suffered so much to change things for the better, so that Nu’est could somehow be better, only to end up with the same reality. He thinks that he should be mad, should be screaming at the injustice of it, should be crying into someone’s shoulder like Minki is to him.

 

Instead, he smiles and hugs his brothers closer.

 

“It’s time to go home,” Minhyun says. “Let’s all go home together.”

 

This time, the universe listens to him.

 

 

 

 

Minhyun wakes up in a familiar puppy pile. Dongho is snoring somewhere to his right, and Minki is curled up against his shoulder. Jonghyun is sprawled across all three of them, and at some point in the night, Aron has somehow snuck in and is now sleeping on the floor by the futon, fingers loosely laced with Minhyun’s.

 

There’s no good way to extricate himself from the pile without waking everyone else up, so Minhyun doesn’t. He lies there a moment longer, breathing slowly and taking in the people around him. He could lie here forever, would lie here forever, if he could. But that’s not how reality works, and with a groan, Minhyun forces himself to get up.

 

Minki protests immediately, clutching at his arm, and Jonghyun almost gets rolled onto the floor on top of Aron. One Minhyun is able to stand up, the others are also stirring awake.

 

“Minhyun, what-” Jonghyun croaks, bringing up a hand to rub at his eyes. “It’s so early, what are you doing?

 

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads,” Minhyun announces cheerfully. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Aron grumbles. He squirms on the floor trying to get comfortable and failing because, well, it’s the floor. After a few minutes, he gives up and sits up, his hair a messy bird’s nest. “Not everyone likes waking up as early as you do, you weirdo. Let us get a few more minutes of sleep at least.”

 

“Nope,” Minhyun denies. “You guys can’t laze around forever, there are things to do.”

 

“What things?” Dongho moans. Twisting, he props himself up on one elbow and squints at the clock. “Now that the program’s over, we finally get our break.”

 

“There is no rest for the wicked, don’t you know?”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“Guys, that’s enough arguing.” Jonghyun finally gets up. “Minhyun’s right. We should start being productive and start planning too. We need to figure out the best strategy for us going forward. It’ll take a while, and it won’t be easy, but we have to do it.”

 

Minhyun nods in agreement. “Someone has to hold down the fort while I’m gone,” he says reasonably.

 

At that, Dongho squints up at his suspiciously. “What’s up with you?” he asks accusingly. “Since when did you get all zen about this? You were totally worked up last night, to the point of crying yourself to sleep. You even cried while everyone else was celebrating when you should’ve been celebrating about placing ninth. How did you suddenly accept all this?”

 

Minhyun smiles. “Let’s just say I’ve had a perspective change,” he says simply. Clapping his hands together loudly, Minhyun declares, “Now let’s get going! Time doesn’t give us second chances, so let’s go while we can!”

 

After all, the future is hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay guys, sorry for the wait. this monster is finally completed!! here's the extra long final chapter to make up for it! i also apologize if we didn't spend as much time on certain things in the finale chapter (... like the finale itself, smh @myself). in case it wasn't clear, i originally intended the ending to read like he had returned to the current timeline, just with more peace and, like he said, a perspective change, but you could also take it as this fic's reality staying the same. while having him return to reality might seem to invalidate what happened in this fic, that wasn't the point of this entire thing: the point was that minhyun had to come to peace with what happened on his own terms instead of either coping on his own or relying on other people, hence the Minhyun Monologue where he's the one to reunite the trainees with his own strength and perspective.
> 
> thanks to everyone who's been reading and reliving the pain of p101 with me over the past two months. there are still a lot of things i regret about this fic, like the unresolved plot threads i had planned on expanding, certain character development, dialogue, general writing, etc... but i'm glad you decided to stick with it :) hopefully i'll see you all again soon with another wanna one fic that i have in the works :P thanks again!


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